A Journey To Hell
by Perhentian.en
Summary: AU. Voldemort won the war in 1987, expanding his hold on the magical world every year since then, and reducing the Mudbloods to slavery. However, some of them were secretly hidden in the Muggle world for their own protection. Thus, Hermione could have lived a peaceful Muggle life, had she not met by accident one of Voldemort's most loyal Death Eater. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

Hi everyone and welcome here!

This story is a Voldemort / Hermione and it focuses primarily on these characters, although the other main characters shall not be very far. It begins in August 1998, few weeks before Hermione's 19th birthday. There was no prophecy, and Voldemort won the war in 1987, reigning unchallenged since then.

Warning: in this fanfiction Voldemort is powerful, cruel, and manipulative, and he will definitely not become a good guy after meeting Hermione.

The story is already written, and has 32 chapters. I will publish one each two weeks.

Please note that English is not my mother tongue, so there can be some mistakes I apologize for. I mostly write to improve my English writing skills. I do not have a beta reader, so if anyone would like to volunteer I will be grateful for the help.

For information this story also exists in French on the account Perhentian, where you can also find my favorite stories and among them a lot of LV/HG or LV/HP that inspired me.

Of course, Harry Potter is own by J. K. Rowling, only the story belongs to me.

I hope you will have a nice time reading this!

Perhentian

oOoOoOo

 **Chapter 1 - August 1998**

"Come on Hermione! It's going to be really great!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming."

Hermione shook her head disapprovingly as she watched her cousin Anne jump madly all around the place. It was quite rare for her family to have her uncle, aunt and cousin visiting, as they lived in Manchester. But for once they had come to spend a few days in London in the middle of August and they stayed at her parent's home. And Anne had somehow managed to convince Hermione to take her to the funfair.

Hermione was not particularly thrilled to go, she would rather have continued to study in preparation of her freshman year at Oxford University, but she had promised to go. She had to admit that her thirteen years old cousin usually managed to get anything she wanted from her. They saw each other so rarely that she could hardly refuse to spend some time with her. Hermione quickly finished packing her bag and headed for the entrance, Anne bouncing just behind her.

"We're leaving," she said to the four adults in the living room while putting on her shoes.

"Have a good afternoon girls."

"And please be back in time for dinner!"

Hermione went with Anne in the Ferris wheel, in the haunted house and in the small roller coasters. But she refused to indulge her cousin by climbing into the kind of big ball that was propelled at huge speed into the sky. She had no desire to spend a minute screaming in fear and being shaken in all directions, thank you very much. They had also eaten far too much churros and even shared a cotton candy afterwards.

Hermione had to admit that she had had a good time. Her little cousin had obeyed her perfectly, and funfairs definitely cheer people up. And if she worked a few more hours tonight she would still manage to finish the algebra book required for her second semester at Oxford, and thus stick to her schedule.

"We should go back," she said to Anne as they wandered between the attractions without doing anything new.

"Let's stay a little more, please!" Anne replied.

"It's going to be dinner time soon."

"A last roller coaster ride and then we hurry back?" Anne suggested. "There is no queue at all."

"Fine," Hermione agreed. "But we do not stay afterwards, okay?"

"Yeah! Great! You are the best Hermione!"

Hermione smiled at the joyfulness of her little cousin. She hurried after her in the queue, got into the attraction, and laughed with her during the ride. She then announced that they really needed to come back. Anne was disappointed and tried to protest, but Hermione did not give in, and they finally set off.

A few moments later Anne was once again in a good mood, and began to tell her how much she hoped to be in the same class as some boy named Jeremy during the next school year. She was rambling about this Jeremy, pointing out that he was unbelievably nice and exceptionally handsome, twirling around at the same time until she found herself in the middle of the road. Hermione watched in horror as a huge black car headed straight towards her cousin and she instinctively threw herself between the car and Anne. She heard Anne's scream and tires screeching, and then the car collided with her back. The impact was less violent than she expected, but she was still thrown on the road, dragging Anne with her.

oOoOoOo

Tyler Greengrass cherished two things. One of them was power, and the other one his family. Pure-bloods for countless generations, the Greengrass family did not despise half-bloods and Muggle-borns. In fact, the fate of anyone outside Tyler's familial or professional circle was irrelevant to him. Thus, he had not participated in the wizarding war when it had started in the 70s. He had been starting at that time to manage the fortune his dead father had left him, and he had just married his lovely wife Helen. He had not wanted to risk his life in a war that had not directly targeted his family. Aurors were supposed to deal with such threats, not civilians.

When Lord Voldemort had finally won the war in 1987, he had first stayed discreet. But as the years had passed, he had came out of the shadows and had decided to take the lion's share. His determination and his political ability had worked well for him. Thus, when the Dark Lord had extended his influence to the surrounding countries and Lucius Malfoy had taken the foreign affairs direction, Tyler Greengrass had replaced him as British Minister of Magic.

Now Tyler Greengrass was one of the most important Death Eaters. He was working directly with Lord Voldemort, the undisputed leader of the magical alliance gathering the majority of European countries. He was in the Death Eater's first circle's meetings, together with Lucius Malfoy, Severus Snape and Bellatrix Lestrange, and he was aware of the Dark Lord's political plans regarding his upcoming conquests. He did not approve the slavery of Muggle-borns, but he would never risk his family position to try to help them.

Overall, he was satisfied: the Dark Lord was pleased with him, his wife and two daughters Daphne and Astoria were living comfortably thanks to his position, and he loved his work. Except the day of his monthly visit to the Muggle Prime Minister, who was a self-centered idiot, not even realizing that he still existed solely because Tyler had been ordered to maintain cordial relations with the Muggles, so they would not stick their impure noses in wizard's business.

And today was unfortunately one of those days, which was why Tyler Greengrass was currently in a Muggle car, driven by a Muggle-born – the only slave he owned – towards the Muggle ministry. He could not deny that cars were comfortable, at least when traveling in a Rolls-Royce, but it was terribly slow compared to Apparition.

He was absent-mindedly drinking champagne to pass the time when the car braked suddenly, and stopped with a thump. The bottle and the glass of champagne flew into the air, crashing on the glass separating him from his driver in a loud noise. Few seconds afterwards he heard his driver open the door and rush outside.

Frowning, Tyler Greengrass decided to get out and see what had happened. He got out of the car gracefully - fortunately his suit had not been stained by the champagne - and saw his driver already at the front of the car, helping a young Muggle to get up. He cursed his driver in his head. He had no time to loose with insignificant Muggles. He was about to tell him to solve this whole situation as soon as possible, when he realized that his driver had just bent over to pick up a second person.

One of the skills that had earned him the esteem of the Dark Lord despite his late adherence to the Death Eaters was the ability to perceive, albeit slightly, magical auras, proof among other things of his own great magical abilities. The one of the Dark Lord was of course the most powerful he had ever felt. Other wizards had more or less impressive auras, which usually allowed Tyler to carefully choose his friends. Magical creatures, and even Muggles also had auras, weaker, but noticeable. And this second girl, whom his driver had just helped to get up, had no aura. No aura at all. As if she was simply not alive.

Instead of returning to the car as he had previously intended, Tyler Greengrass finally took a few steps to join his driver and have a closer look at the girl. Bushy haired, rather small, somewhere between 18 and 20 years old. And no magical aura. As soon as she was on her feet, the girl turned to the younger one.

"Anne, are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm okay Hermione, I'm okay," the younger girl replied, visibly shocked.

"Please excuse me ladies, I noticed you too late," Tyler's driver apologized. "Are you hurt? I can call an ambulance."

"No, thank you, we are fine," the one named Hermione answered.

"I'm really sorry sir," the smallest one added. "I didn't pay attention."

"We'll drive you home," Tyler suddenly said.

They abruptly turned, seeming to just notice him. His driver looked the most surprised of the three, as any kind of relationship with Muggles was severely repressed by the current government. He was obviously frightened and his gaze traveled nervously between him and the two girls. Was he thinking that he would kill the two Muggles? He had many more important things to do than to go around and kill random Muggles on a whim.

"Thank you very much sir, but it won't be necessary," Hermione immediately answered. "My cousin is spending the weekend at my parents' home. We don't live very far away, and we were in fact walking back home before this unfortunate incident."

"I insist," Tyler Greengrass demanded coldly.

He was not used to refusals. Few people were more important than him in the wizarding world. And it would have never occurred to him to ask anything of the Dark Lord. The girl looked strangely at him, startled by his abruptness. She took the hand of her cousin and moved back slightly. Understanding that he was going to have to be kind to these Muggles to know where they lived, Tyler swore in his head. This day was definitely a bad one.

"Don't worry miss, I just want to make sure you get home safely," Tyler Greengrass explained. "If you have any post traumatic reaction in the streets it could be very dangerous for both of you."

She looked at him suspiciously and he forced himself to give her his kindest smile.

"Well then thank you very much sir," she finally said after a short silence.

Tyler Greengrass opened the car door for the two girls and they moved forward timidly. Neither Anne nor Hermione had ever been in such luxurious car. The journey was done in the utmost silence, Tyler trying in vain to probe Hermione's aura. The girl was visibly more than embarrassed by his sustained attention but did not say anything, probably out of politeness. When they stopped at the address Hermione had provided, the two girls came out quickly, and Hermione briefly thanked Tyler.

It was a short detour, and Tyler finally got to his appointment without too much delay. He spoke with his Muggle counterpart, shared a drink with him, and was droved back from the Muggle ministry to the Leaky Cauldron, from which he Apparated home. He dined quietly with his wife and his two daughters, rapidly discussed the last news with Helen, and then went to bed. During all the evening, until he finally felt asleep, he wondered how it was possible to have no magical aura at all.

oOoOoOo

When Tyler Greengrass woke up the next morning his first thought was for magical auras. He sighed loudly. He did not even know why it bothered him so much. Perhaps because he was so used to rely on others' aura that the idea that it could be hidden disturbed him even in his sleep? He got up and got dressed, before Apparating to the Ministry of Magic. He reached his office quite quickly - everyone rushing to get out of his way - and politely greeted his secretary, a non-powerful but conscientious half-blood.

"Miss Clearwater, could you please bring me all the books about magical auras from the ministry library?"

"Of course Minister, I'll take care of it right away."

Tyler Greengrass nodded and entered his office. Less than an hour later, his secretary brought him fifteen books. However, he was not able to go through them until the beginning of the afternoon, having been really busy before. And what he read did not satisfy him. "Every living being has its own aura...". No, visibly not. He had met the exception that proved the rule. And he was well-placed to know that in the current magical world, pure-bloods' as well as half-bloods' auras were carefully registered. And evaluated for half-bloods to find out if they could attend Hogwarts. Even those of the Muggle-born slaves were recorded.

He was pretty satisfied to have insisted to drive back the two young girls. He would need to see this Hermione again to clear up the mystery of her lack of magical aura. He would simply need to find an excuse to get her into his car, and then he would have a few hours in front of him to understand the phenomenon a little better. A little memory charm will afterwards ensure that she will not remember anything.

Tyler had just opened another advanced book on auras when he felt his dark mark burn. The Dark Lord was summoning him. Postponing his search until later, he Apparated to the Slytherin Castle.

oOoOoOo

Since her little cousin Anne had thrown herself under a car and she had barely managed to react in time, Hermione felt terribly guilty not to have watched her better. Their parents had been horrified by the story, calming down only after checking four times that none of the girls was hurt.

Fortunately, the bruises Hermione now had on her shoulder had only appeared a few hours later, otherwise she was sure they would have spent the evening in a hospital. Not that she hated hospitals, or that she minimized the risks, but the car was not driving very fast, and they were clearly more frightened than hurt. To be honest, she was more annoyed by the car trip than by the accident. She had felt the man staring at her the whole journey, without picking up a word. Only politeness had prevented her from making a blunt remark. She had felt particularly uneasy.

Three days after the accident she was coming back home from the grocery store, thinking about her readings for Oxford, when she noticed a Rolls-Royce parked just outside her house. It looked exactly like the car that had hit her, and such luxurious cars were not very often parked in her street. But she dismissed it as a coincidence.

She still hesitated slightly, before resuming her pace, heading for her home. As nothing had happened when she reached the door, she though for herself that her intuition had been good and that it was indeed a coincidence. However, when the next day she again noticed the car in her street, parked in another place, she began to no longer think of it as a coincidence. Was she watched? But that did not make any sense, why would she, Hermione Granger, a quite ordinary girl, be followed and watched? A mere incident without consequences could not justify it.

She had a positive answer to her first question the same evening. As she turned around the corner coming back home from another wandering around bookshops she saw that the strange businessman was leaning against the Rolls-Royce, looking straight at her. She adjusted her backpack on her shoulder and walked to him with firm steps.

"You wanted to talk to me sir?" she asked bluntly. "I saw your car in the area yesterday and this morning."

The man raised an eyebrow at her direct approach.

"Well miss…" he began, letting the end of his sentence hang in the air.

"Granger. Hermione Granger."

"Miss Granger, I just wanted to invite you for dinner tonight. I was very impressed by your bravery a few days ago, and such good deeds should always be rewarded."

Hermione sent him a puzzled look. It was certainly said in a friendly tone, but it was still very strange. The man was clearly from her parents' generation, and she did not really have the habit of having dinner with complete strangers.

"Well, sir..." she said, using the same technique he used just before.

"Greengrass," supplied the man, still smiling amicably. "Tyler Greengrass."

"Mr. Greengrass, I'm very grateful for your invitation, but my parents are waiting for me this evening, so it won't be possible."

"What would be a more convenient time for you then?"

Hermione fidgeted a little and narrowed her eyes suspiciously. She could not help feeling uncomfortable near the man. And why was he insisting? That was very inappropriate.

"I'm sorry, but I'm very busy in the coming days," she answered. "I'm moving out of London soon."

The man seemed exasperated, and she barely had time to see him make a movement of his hand and utter a word in Latin. Then she felt a floating sensation as every thought and worry in her head was wiped gently away. For a moment she wanted to accept his proposal, but she shook her head and the sensation of well-being disappeared as quickly as it had come. She felt even more uncomfortable and a thrill of apprehension ran down her back.

"I'm sorry, I have to go," she said before leaving hurriedly.

Only years of pure-blooded education prevented Tyler Greengrass from visibly display his amazement. He did not use the Imperius curse often, but he was quite sure to perfectly master the spell. And even if he had cast it at low strength, it should have been more than enough for a mere Muggle. But his spell had worked just for a brief moment before the girl got rid of it in a shrug and turned on her heels.

Just before she entered her house, he recovered and threw an Impediment jinx to her legs with the maximum power he was able to manage. The girl stumbled and fell to the ground under his watchful eyes. She got up quickly, looked at him with a mix of embarrassment and suspicion, and hurried home.

Tyler leaned pensively against the car. By increasing the power of his spell he had managed to have a reaction. There was indubitably some kind of protection around her that absorbed the spells, in addition to hiding her aura. A protection impressive enough to partially block an unforgivable. He should have thrown it much more strongly.

Keeping his wand in his hand and his eyes on the door, he took a few moments to wonder what he should do with Hermione Granger. She was not naive enough to let herself be approached diplomatically, and he could not possibly leave her in the Muggle world. However, she shall not disappear tonight. Too many people had seen them talking and he did not want to disturb Obliviators for such an unimportant matter. He will have his driver watch her for now, and he would arrange to discreetly recover her later.

oOoOoOo

When she was safely home, Hermione quickly greeted her family before going directly into the living room and turning on the family computer, her heart pounding into her chest. After few minutes and few unsuccessful spellings she finally found information about this Tyler Greengrass. She nearly swore when she saw the results. He was a high-ranked government official, having worked in a great number of British embassies, and had now a position as an episodic adviser to the Prime Minister. He was married, with two girls enrolled in a highly selective public school.

She soon faced a small issue in her research. Tyler Greengrass had made few public appearances, and had only a very slight background story. There was no more information that what she had already found. And what normal politician had only one photo of him on the internet? What normal politician was not quoted in any newspapers articles?

Hermione wondered if Tyler Greengrass was in fact a fake profile, but he was still quoted on the UK government website, which was rather incongruous. She also cursed herself for not paying more attention to the Rolls-Royce's license plate, which might have helped her to find information.

When her mother called her for dinner, she sighed, turned off the computer, and hoped she would not meet the man again.

oOoOoOo

Tyler Greengrass could not stop himself from thinking about Hermione Granger the following days. He had her followed to make sure he would not lose her track. He was going to have to abduct her to really understand what was happening, but for that he needed a smokescreen that did not involve him. And above all, he had to gather some information beforehand.

That's why on Tuesday morning Tyler finally went in the depths of the Ministry of Magic, where were stored all magical records, accessible only by few selected people. He passed various magical wards, and finally arrived in the round room of archives. He then raised his wand, and pronounced Hermione Granger's name. None of the documents in the room reacted, which made Tyler wince. He then retrieved the birth records for 3 years around what should be her birth year, and tried to see if there were any witches named Hermione or Granger. There was none. Not even anything approaching.

Upset, Tyler finally tidied the documents with a wand motion and hurried out of the room. He had lost half an hour for nothing. As he passed the protective enchantments again, he felt his left forearm burn him fiercely and thought that he might have lost more than just time. The Dark Lord was not a patient man, and Tyler did not know how long his Lord had been calling him.

Guided by his mark, he immediately Apparated to Lord Voldemort's study at Slytherin Castle. He knelt quickly, hoping the Dark Lord had just called him.

"What can I do for you my Lord? he asked.

"It took you a long time to answer my call Tyler, please care to explain why," the Dark Lord asked with an icy voice.

He was definitely out of luck today.

"Please pardon me my Lord, I was in the archives room at the Ministry," Tyler replied. "I only felt your call after exiting."

Lord Voldemort looked at his servant with boredom, playing loosely with his white wand. Tyler Greengrass might be a not too stupid follower, but the Dark Lord hated waiting, and he had been calling him for ten minutes before he showed up, his anger rising every second.

"What were you doing in the archives room?" he asked curtly.

The past years on the top of the magical world had not lessened his propensity to punish his followers, but he sometimes granted them the opportunity to explain themselves beforehand.

"I was looking for information about a Muggle girl," Tyler began.

"About a Muggle girl?" Voldemort interrupted him, his wand now aimed at the man in front of him.

He, Lord Voldemort, the sole ruler of the magical alliance, had lost ten minutes because of a Muggle girl?

"My Lord, it's a Muggle without any magical aura. I mean absolutely no aura, as if she wasn't alive. She also seems to be surrounded by a protection as less powerful spells are absorbed without her even noticing. I was researching her file hoping to find an explanation."

Voldemort thoughtfully looked at his Death Eater. He had never heard of a phenomenon that would hide an aura to the point of making it completely undetectable. Change it to scramble the tracks or slightly decrease the power, yes, but to make it undetectable? He would not have thought that possible. And above all, what was the point of hiding a Muggle's aura?

Setting aside these questions, Voldemort went back to the reason he summoned Tyler and discussed with him the latest political news. It was only at the end of the meeting that he thought of the Muggle girl again, interested by the possibility of completely masking an aura. He was almost certain that none of today's magi were able to mask an aura. If he could understand how the phenomenon worked, it would give him an advantage over the few opponents he still had outside the magical alliance.

"The girl," he said to Tyler, "Bring her here tomorrow at 9 pm. I want to see this… phenomenon."

"Yes my Lord."

Tyler Greengrass got up and went out of the Dark Lord's office. He would finally need to abduct Hermione Granger tomorrow. He shall plan for a squad of Obliviators just in case. And he would need to find some Death Eaters he can trust enough to do the job.

oOoOoOo

 **AN:** Thanks for reading this chapter. I hope you liked it.


	2. Chapter 2

Hello,

Thank you very much for all the reviews, alerts and favs, they are really greatly appreciated!

I hope you will enjoy the second chapter.

Perhentian

oOoOoOo

 **Chapter 2 - August 1998**

Hermione had been particularly worried the past few days. She had not talked about what had happened, neither to her friends, not to her parents, not really sure in fact about what had really happened. Tyler Greengrass had had an unnerving behavior, and she was pretty certain he had done something to her, when she had suddenly felt herself plunged into this strange torpor. But she did not have the slightest idea how to explain it.

Several times she had thought she saw the black Rolls-Royce following her, but every time she turned around it seemed to be another car, leaving her particularly nervous. As an only child, she had quickly become accustomed to staying home alone, day or night. However, this strange encounter seemed to have triggered her paranoia to a new level.

On top of that, the beginning of the school year was getting closer and closer and she was starting to stress a lot about it. Would she fit in at the prestigious Oxford University? She had had time to read a lot of books about all the lectures she was going to follow, but she did not know if it would be sufficient to compete with other students. Although she had been the best student in her high school, Oxford only had the best students, and she was afraid to fail miserably. There were still two or three books that she did not completely understood, and she must change that before the year starts. Otherwise she would already be at a disadvantage. It was the perfect way to failure.

On Wednesday, August 26th, Hermione was immersed in one of her books for Oxford, the one on electromagnetic waves theory, when she heard the front door opening and someone entering the house. She wondered for a moment why her mother or father had left from work so early. It was not even six o'clock in the afternoon and they often stayed much longer at work. She was also quite surprised not to hear the ritual "I'm home" that they both always said when arriving.

"Mom? Dad?" she called without moving.

There was no answer. Had she dreamed up the sound? Slightly worried, she noted down the book's page she stopped at, put down her pen, and got up from her chair.

When she arrived in the living room, she stilled at the sight of a pale brown man in a long cloak standing shamelessly in the hallway. She was pretty certain to have locked the front door earlier, and she found it odd to enter people's houses without being invited. Perhaps it was some good friend of her parents whom she did not know?

"Good afternoon sir," she greeted politely. "Are you looking for my parents?"

"Are you Hermione Granger?" the man asked.

"Yes," Hermione carefully answered. "How may I help you?"

The man did not answer but a satisfied grin spread on his face and Hermione felt her heart sank in her chest. The thought that he was a burglar crossed her mind, but the most alarming fact was that this man visibly knew her name. He stared at her without blinking and she took a step back, all her senses alert. The man stepped forward, his gaze still fixed on hers, and with a sudden movement she rushed into the kitchen, feverishly closing the door behind her. She was going to throw herself on the phone that was hanging in a corner when she turned and hit another man standing stoically in the center of the room.

Completely distraught, she moved backwards quickly, and collided with a hard surface behind her. She heard the kitchen door open and terror flew through her – she had locked it just before! –, and few seconds later the first man joined the second. Her gaze shifted frantically from one to the other and she felt like her brain was desperately trying to find a solution. Then they started to approach her. She turned abruptly and grabbed one of the kitchen knives on the display. But one of them violently grabbed her wrist before she had the time to turn around to face them again.

She cried out and tried to pull away but the man's grip was too tight. Hermione had never felt so panicked before, as if her heart was trying to burst out of her chest.

"Let go of me!" she screamed.

She managed to kick the man behind her, who groaned and let go of her arm. But the other man instantly slammed her face on one of the walls of the kitchen. She released the knife she still held in shock, and the man took advantage of the situation to grasp both her hands and squeeze them behind her back. Despite her efforts to regain control, Hermione soon felt a rope wrap itself surprisingly quickly around her wrists.

"Help!" she shouted.

She was not sure anyone could hear her screaming from inside the home, but she was completely terrified and had presently no better idea.

"Shut up," the man holding her groaned as he violently banged her head against the wall again.

Hermione suddenly felt the kitchen spinning around her.

"Antonin, the Portkey," one of them said.

Hermione tried to struggle, feeling that whatever the strange "portkey" thing was, it would certainly not serve her interests. But she could not manage to free herself, and the throbbing pain that grew in her head was not helping.

A cold object came into contact with her hands and she suddenly had the sensation of suffocating and being quartered. For a moment she wondered if it was what dying was like. When the suffocating sensation stopped she quickly sucked in air, feeling like she was coming back to life. The pressure on her arms relaxed and she felt to the ground, her trembling legs not supporting her for a moment. She straightened up as fast as she could with her hands tied behind her back. Then, she realized with astonishment that she was no longer in her home's kitchen, but in a room she was sure she had never seen before.

"What's going on? Who are you?" she asked the two men in front of her. "What do you want?"

None of them bothered to answer her. As she was going to ask another question, they moved slightly and suddenly disappeared. She remained completely frozen in shock. She was becoming completely crazy. It was not possible to move instantly from her kitchen to an unknown room. It was not possible to disappear in an instant. She cannot recover for a few seconds, her brain seemingly refusing to analyze the situation.

Then her pragmatic mind took over and she shook herself up, analyzing her surroundings. She was in a room with a single door, and a window overlooking a stretch of grass and a forest. She blinked at the forest. Her parents lived in the center of London, how could she now be in the middle of a forest? Was she hallucinating? Had her captors drugged her without her realizing it? But everything felt strangely real, and despite her current headache she did not seem to be under the influence of any illicit substance.

She must be on the second or the third floor of a house. In what was probably a room, with a bed, a desk, a chair, and a large wardrobe. Panic rose in her. She did not know what these men wanted from her. She did not understand neither how they had been able to enter her house, nor how they had got her here. But she understood perfectly well that she had to get out of this place quickly if she did not want to find out why she was abducted.

First, she tried to open the door, catching with difficulty the handle in her bounded hands, but it was locked. She pulled as hard as she could, and afterwards threw herself on the door. But it did not even shudder. Then, she searched the different desk drawers, without finding anything interesting. Finally, she looked back at the wardrobe. The wooden doors were adorned with huge mirrors, and a piece of those would be just perfect to slice the rope that held her wrists.

Hermione approached the wardrobe, closed her eyes, and threw herself on the mirror. The first time was vain and so was the second. But the third one a crack appeared on it. And the fourth time it exploded in a frightful crash, slashing her shoulder. She winced in pain, but smiled with satisfaction when she saw the broken mirror on the floor. She anxiously waited few seconds, in case anyone had heard the noise, but nobody came. Then she carefully grabbed a piece of the mirror and tried to rub it against the rope.

She worked on it for a few minutes, but it did not seem to loosen at all. She looked at her back in the remaining mirror, and saw that she had not even made a notch on the rope. It was strange, and what was even stranger was the fact that she cannot see any knot on the rope. Puzzled, she approached the bed, and slid the end of the mirror on it. It made a clear and resolute cut in the sheets.

Frustrated, she let the mirror on the bed and tried her last idea. Climbing onto the chair to get her hands on the right level, she tried to open the window. It worked, and she let slip a joyful sound. But her joy faded away quickly when she noticed she could not pass the edge. She did not understand at first what was blocking her, before concluding that nothing was blocking her. Still, no part of her body could cross the window frame, while she could feel the breeze coming from outside.

Her last idea having failed, Hermione began to panic more and more, her heart violently pounding into her chest, and her wounded shoulder throwing painfully. Kidnappings had always been an abstract notion for her. Sad news on the television. She never thought she could get abducted, let alone directly from home. The last stories she heard came back to her mind forcefully. A burnt body found in the wood. A corpse floating in a river. A mutilated person in a cellar.

"Come on Hermione!" she groaned. "There must be a way to get out!"

She paced in the room for a moment, looking for inspiration, before grabbing one of the broken mirror pieces, clumsily bringing it to the window, and throwing it over the edge. Under her astonished eyes, the piece was not blocked, and felt to the grass below. She smiled determinedly at seeing the result. Now she had a plan.

oOoOoOo

Tyler Greengrass entered the small room where Dolohov and Rosier had confirmed they had dropped the young Muggle twenty minutes to nine. He paused at the sight of the disorder inside. One of the mirrors of the wardrobe was broken, its bloodied pieces were scattered throughout the room, the window was open, and there was no sign of Hermione Granger.

He rushed to the window, and noticed that one of the sheets of the bed was stuck by one of the window's panels, and hung outside. On the lawn below, broken mirror pieces were visible everywhere.

"Impossible!" he whispered to himself.

Hermione Granger could not have fled through the window. The wards placed on it were not based on the magical aura, but on the living state. And Hermione Granger was alive last time he checked!

Tyler Greengrass carefully looked at the grass and swore when he saw what appeared to be a piece of clothing left in the grass. He stormed out of the room and rushed to the garden. The Dark Lord would not be pleased if he did not bring the Muggle back to him in time, and he only had about fifteen minutes left to find where she had gone. From one twist of his wand, he activated all the alarms of his manor. Suddenly he was quite relived to have asked Helen, Daphne and Astoria to spend the evening out of the manor.

oOoOoOo

It was Tyler Greengrass! Hermione had recognized his voice. She had been right to be wary of him, this man had abducted her! Her breath quickened as she panicked. What did he want from her? Had he abducted her because of the car accident? But she was pretty sure the car had not had a single scratch! Or was it because she refused his invitation for dinner? It was completely unrealistic. She had not even known him ten days ago! If she managed to get out, she will have a quite long complain written to the governmental websites that presented him as a respectable man!

As he rushed out of the room, Hermione laboriously extracted herself from under the bed. She was completely stiff, and her wounded shoulder ached terribly. It seemed like she had spent hours burying herself under that bed, with her anxiety as only company. She straightened to her feet and smiled weakly as she saw the open door. Cautiously, she approached it and peeked in the hallway. Empty. She sighed in relief. Perhaps everything will work out fine.

She entered the hallway and decided to turn left, her heart beating too fast in her chest. She passed few doors before the corridor led to a balustrade overlooking what seemed to be a huge, richly decorated living room, with an access to the surrounding park. If only she could reach the park, she should manage to run and hide in the forest. After fearfully checking that the living room was still empty, Hermione hurried down the railing.

She quickly descended the stairs, trying to be as discreet as possible. She had almost reached the bay window overlooking the park when she heard footsteps. She rushed behind a couch in a corner of the living room and squatted behind it. She hoped that the person, whoever she was, would pass without stopping.

The footsteps got closer, and then stopped when they reached the living room. Hermione begged in her head for the person to go away. Unfortunately, her luck seemed to have left her, and if the steps were resumed, they just paced slowly in the living room. Hermione curled up as much as she could, trying to be less visible.

"Show yourself Miss Granger, I know you're here," Tyler Greengrass calmly stated.

Hermione froze. "He's only bluffing. He's lying," she repeated in her head.

"Your staging was quite successful," Tyler Greengrass added. "But unfortunately for you this house is riddled with alarms."

Hermione held her breath and did not move.

"Very well then. Accio Hermione Granger!" he casted.

Tyler had put quite an impressive amount of power in his spell, but the girl only glided on four meters before being able to grab an armchair a few steps from him. He watched as she clumsily got up and realized that one of her shoulders was covered with blood, while her left cheek was bruised.

"Are you out of your mind?" She immediately yelled at him, looking straight into his eyes. "Who do you think you are to kidnap people?"

Tyler Greengrass did not answer, and before she could run away he stepped closer and grabbed her arm, the one not covered in blood. He dragged her to the fireplace in the living room. She followed, stumbling for a few steps, before she started struggling against him and screaming. He sighed. He cannot lose any more time, he was already almost late. And the Dark Lord did not tolerate lateness.

He pointed his wand at the girl but of course that did not frighten her at all. He quickly turned it into a Muggle revolver, and the girl stopped fighting to look at him with wide, frightened brown eyes.

"You will obey me if you don't want to die," Tyler warned her. "Did I make myself clear enough?"

Hermione nodded nervously and followed him, her eyes not letting the gun out of her sight. Even if she managed to free herself from the man's grip, there was a great risk that she would get shot while running away. She had not seen a single gun in her life before, and now that her life was directly at stake, she found it terrifying. She had never even though it was possible to feel so scared.

They reached the fireplace, and to her uttermost surprise Tyler Greengrass threw something into the flames that made them turn completely green. Then he tried to push her into the fire and she began to resist again. She still preferred to be shot than to be burned alive.

"No, no, let go of me, let go!" she shouted as she fought against Tyler Greengrass' strength.

He only slightly released his grip.

"Calm down, it won't burn you," he stated dryly.

Hermione calmed down but gave him a suspicious look and Tyler put his hand in the middle of the flames. Hermione's eyes widened in surprise as the man's hand went through the fire without any burns. Unable to test with her tied hands, Hermione held out one of her feet and realized that the fire was indeed not burning her.

"Come on now," Tyler ordered.

Before she could even move, Tyler pushed her into the fire and announced:

"Slytherin Castle, first circle's small parlor."

The green flames surrounded them and Hermione let out a cry of fear as she felt the ground disappear, and her vision blurred.

When her feet touched the ground again, only Tyler Greengrass' hold on her arm prevented her from collapsing on the floor. She coughed, but Tyler Greengrass immediately dragged her down a hallway and she struggled to catch her breath. She only had a confused notion of her surroundings while he dragged her, simply noticing the thick carpet on the floor, statues, and some paintings on the walls.

She confusedly realized that they were in a new place and she wondered if she had really gone mad. Perhaps she had actually been locked up in a mental asylum for days.

Her hands were sweaty, her whole body seemed paralyzed by the tension, and her wounded shoulder was not helping her to fight the wave of panic that was rising inside her.

They suddenly stopped, and Hermione noticed that they were in front of large carved wooden doors. She finally managed to catch her breath properly and turned resolutely towards Tyler Greengrass.

"Where are we?" she asked, her voice slightly shaking. "And what do you want?"

Tyler watched the young Muggle in front of him. She had barely recovered her breath, and her wounded shoulder was indubitably painfully hurting her. Her bushy hair fell on her face and if her fear was reflected in the stiffness of her posture, she was bravely looking straight at him, her chin raised. She must have been about the same age as his daughter Daphne, and probably did not understand much of what was happening to her.

"We're in the Dark Lord's castle, and I highly advise you not to upset him," he told her firmly.

Hermione winced. The Dark Lord? Seriously? She had not learned much, except that she was undoubtedly in trouble. She was going to ask another question when the man turned to the portrait that adorned the doors, and she noticed that it was a picture of a moving snake. A snake was moving in the picture before her eyes. She blinked several times, but the glitch did not disappear.

"Tyler Greengrass requests an audience."

Hermione gasped in surprise when the snake slowly nodded. A moment later, the doors opened on their own, but it did not surprise Hermione as it still was the least weird event she had witnessed that day. She warily glanced into the room. She did not want to enter this room. Not at all. She tried to resist, to struggle, but Tyler Greengrass did not let her go and resolutely dragged her inside. She barely had time to understand that it was a big study before Tyler stopped in the middle of the room.

"On your knees" he ordered, before pulling hard on her arm.

Hermione screamed as her knees painfully hit the floor. She tried to get up but Tyler Greengrass still firmly held her arm. She then realized with surprise that he was also on his knees, eyes lowered in an oddly submissive way.

Her heart beating erratically in her chest, Hermione looked up to understand to whom she had been brought to. In front of them a tall man stood regally. He looked like he was in his thirties, with black hair and an indisputable elegance. As Tyler, he was also wearing a long black cloak - or was it a robe? -. His thin, aristocratic face, was frighteningly cold, and he held in his hand a piece of white wood similar to the one Tyler had turned into a revolver earlier. Everything in his posture oozed power.

His gaze felt quickly on her, and Hermione recoiled at the sight of the man's crimson eyes. She felt her whole body freeze in fear at this terrifying look, and she even forgot to keep struggling. Without even knowing why, she was intrinsically terrified by the man in front of her.

"Tyler, you may rise," the man said.

His voice was so cold, so sharp, that Hermione felt a chill freezing her back. Tyler Greengrass got up, and she followed him, despite her trembling legs and her apprehension. She had to understand what was happening here. She had to understand where she was. And she absolutely had to find how to escape from here.

"My Lord," Tyler said respectfully. "This is Hermione Granger, the Muggle I told you about."

My Lord? What was this madness? The man's gaze turned away from Tyler Greengrass, back to Hermione.

"Hermione?" the man picked up. "A woman wrongly accused, dead because she was mistrusted… Lovely."

Hermione tried to step back but Tyler Greengrass still firmly held her arm.

"Let go of me!" she hissed to him, trying to free her arm.

"Crucio," the other man lazily said.

Before she could do anything to avoid it, a red light hit Hermione in the middle of her chest, and pain radiated all over her body. As Tyler Greengrass finally released her arm she felt to the ground and curled up while restraining herself from sobbing. She had the impression she suddenly felt sick, her stomach throwing as when she had had her appendicitis attack few years ago.

The pain disappeared as suddenly as it had come, and Hermione got up shakily, a task made quite complex by her hands still tied behind her back. She took the opportunity to step back, until she banged against the back of a couch. Her gaze was fixed on the red eyes of the man - the Dark Lord had said Tyler - and her whole body was now irremediably overgrown with fear. How had he done that? What else was this terrifying man able to do?

"Tyler, who knows?" the man asked.

"Dolohov and Rosier, my Lord, and my Mudblood," Tyler Greengrass provided.

"Make sure they'll forget everything."

"As you wish, my Lord."

The man dismissed Tyler Greengrass with a haughty gesture and Hermione started believing that she was not going to live to see the end of the day. She did not want to be alone with this man. She did not want to know what he was going to do to her. She watched as Tyler Greengrass bowed – bowed! – and quickly left the room, without finding the courage to move.

Suddenly, she felt the bonds holding her arms loosen, and she brought her hands in front of her in a gesture of defense that she suspected to be vain. The blood returning to her hands made her wince in pain and she rubbed them mechanically against each other, reviving the pain in her shoulder.

"What do you want?" she asked in a voice that was far too weak for her taste.

She did not understand what was happening here, and she did not understand why she was here.

"Tsk, tsk, I'm the only one having the right to ask questions here," the man replied casually.

His voice froze her blood and she desperately searched for a place to hide, or how to flee. But there was nothing she could reach quickly enough. The door was too far, just like the windows. The man stepped closer and she walked around the couch recoiling, her whole body shaking with fear. He continued to slowly walk towards her, a cruel smile on his lips, and she kept backing away, her gaze fixed on his, until her back came into contact with a cold wall. Glancing around her, she realized that she was cornered, the man blocking the only possible escape way.

Then he raised his wooden stick and Hermione's panic drastically increased.

"Magia Revelio," she heard.

A purple light hit Hermione, but it had no apparent effect. She remained still for a moment, before reacting to a sudden surge of adrenaline. She threw herself forward, trying to hit the man with all her strength. She had barely begun her move when she found herself thrown backward, without understanding how that was possible. She slammed brutaly into the wall, uttering a pained scream. She struggled to recover, both because of the pain and because of the man's terrifying gaze still fixed on her.

"Interesting," the man quietly said, getting closer to her.

"Let me go, you have no right to kidnap me!" Hermione blurted.

The man gave her a bored look, as if he had forgotten she could speak.

"You'll better soon realize that I loathe insolence," he commented. "Crucio."

The pain was far worse than the one she experienced few minutes before. Now she had liquid fire in her veins, her skin was torn from her body and thousands of knifes stabbed her. She had never felt such intense pain. She screamed without being able to restrain herself and trashed on the floor. Her body was only pain and her mind was even worse. She seemed to hear the man laugh, although she was not certain.

When the spell stopped, she took several seconds to catch her breath, and did not move anymore, trying to convince herself that it was a nightmare and that she was just going to wake up anytime.

"Let's see who tried to protect you little Muggle."

A hand grabbed her chin and turned her head roughly. Opening her eyes she found herself a few inches away from those, bright red, of the man. His perfume, as dangerous and elegant as his face, reached her and she tried in vain to recoil further. She suddenly felt a huge pain in her eyes, as if someone was droving numerous needles inside. She tried to struggle harder and to close her eyes, without being able to. The pain continued for a few moments before fading away. Instinctively, she quickly covered her eyes with her hands and rubbed them.

After a few seconds she wiped her tears and tried to straighten up, leaning on the wall behind her, not having the strength to get completely up. She looked incomprehensively at the man in front of her as he got up and walked a few steps away. Why had Tyler Greengrass brought her here? What did this man want from her? What could she have done to draw their attention on her? The man looked terribly dangerous, and she wondered what he was planning to do to her.

"Please tell me what you want," she begged in a broken voice.

Lord Voldemort did not bother to answer and stared thoughtfully at the Muggle girl sitting against the wall in front of him. The magical shield around her was impressive. It was impossible to pass the Occlumency wards, and he was the best Legilimens in Europe. The absorption of part of the Cruciatus spell was not a small achievement either. The one he had just thrown at her should have driven her mad in a few seconds. And the impossibility to feel the magical shield was even more impressive. Even the Magia Revelio had given nothing away, while it normally allowed identifying quite fairly the power of magical auras.

There was, of course, a way to bypass these barriers by increasing the spells' power as his last Cruciatus demonstrated, or by using indirect spells. Still this was impressive magic. Who did that and why? Lord Voldemort had no idea, but he was already imagining the use he could make of such a shield when he would have understood how it worked. He had to take a look at two or three books in his library about permanent magical shields. This shield would probably turn out to be an interesting challenge.

"Get up," he ordered absently.

Hermione stood up, all her limbs shaking, not taking her eyes of the white wand the man in front of her held in his hand. A moment later, she heard the study doors open and Tyler Greengrass entered.

"Take the Muggle to the east wing, and ask Dory to keep her alive."

Hermione felt Tyler Greengrass grab her arm. She resisted weakly but he pulled her gently forward and she was still too shaken by what she had experienced the last hours to resist more. Again they went through many corridors, but soon the atmosphere changed dramatically, and Hermione realized they were coming to what looked like a prison in the basement.

"Let go of me," she said, struggling harder. "Let go!"

She tried to hit Tyler with her free hand, but he grabbed both of her arms and twisted them painfully behind her back. Hermione let out a scream of pain as he accentuated the twist, and she felt her shoulder's wound open once again.

"Listen to me carefully, Miss Granger," he began. "There is nothing you can do against us, and I strongly advise you to comply with everything that is asked from you. The Dark Lord isn't a patient person, and he is far more dangerous than anything you could imagine."

"You're insane," Hermione weakly replied.

Tyler did not answer and just dragged her to a door, which he opened with a flick of his wooden stick. As she had guessed earlier, it was a prison cell, quite sinister. She was quickly thrown in, and she stumbled on a slab and fell on all fours. The door had slammed behind her before she could get up.

oOoOoOo

Alone in his office, Voldemort thoughtfully turned his wand between his fingers. It was rare for him to encounter phenomena he did not know, or which he had not at least heard of. It was possible to make powerful shields, even permanent ones. It was possible to hide a magical aura. But then the camouflage itself was noticeable. Not for the average wizard of course, but he was a mage, and one very versed in the detection of magical emanations of all kinds.

Voldemort himself would have claimed that it was not possible to completely mask an aura. But someone had found a way to do it. There must have been runic magic there. Maybe contrition charms too? As well as a source of stable and powerful magic. An object? Or the girl herself?

And why? If she was a young pure-blood or half-blood witch there was no reason to coerce her magic. If she was a Mudblood however, someone might have had the silly idea of hiding her magic to protect her from a life of servitude. But again, why? He did not understand why anyone would have struggled so much to save some Mudblood. On the other hand, it would make even less sense to hide a Muggle. He would surely have his answers when he would manage to break that shield. That should not take him very long.

oOoOoOo

 **AN:** Thank you all for reading this chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

Hello,

First of all happy new year! I wish you all the best for 2019 :)

Thanks to all readers, and especially to those of you who left a review or added this story to their alerts / favs.

I hope you will enjoy the following chapter.

Have a nice day,

Perhentian

oOoOoOo

 **Chapter 3 - August 1998**

The room was plunged into darkness as the door slammed behind Hermione's back. She stood up as fast as she was able to, and anxiously threw herself on the door. She fumbled to find a handle to open it. Her hands browsed the door's polished surface several times without finding a single asperity, not even a keyhole, and Hermione was on the verge of breaking down and cry.

"Let me out!" she shouted. "Let me out!"

She hammered the door, but the only answer was complete silence. She turned around and narrowed her eyes to try to distinguish her surroundings. A faint ray of light seemed to come from a tiny opening on the opposite wall. She stumbled on something on the ground as she advanced towards the light source. Warily, she crouched down and groped in front of her until she came across a soft material. Probably some sort of mattress. Then she got up and walked to the opening. A very small window. Smaller than her head. She tried to pass her arm in the opening but her hand slammed against glass. She punched it angrily, only managing to hurt herself.

Bringing her painful hand against her chest, Hermione was no longer able to restrain her sobs. She slid down the wall onto the mattress, and curled up into a ball. Her head ached, her shoulder ached, and her fist ached. She did not know where she was. She did not know what was wanted from her. She was alone, in a cell, at the mercy of terrifying men who had tortured her. And Hermione was scared. Scared to suffer again. Scared to die. Scared to never understand what was happening.

She cried for a long time, without moving, without being able to calm down, and when she finally fell asleep she was too drained to even notice it.

oOoOoOo

The next two days were the most distressing Hermione had ever experienced. She was alone in her cell, dimly lit during the day by the window, and she had not seen nor heard anyone since Tyler Greengrass had literally thrown her here. Except for Dory, the house elf who brought her meals.

The first time she had seen the creature, Hermione had been afraid, but she had finally realized that Dory was just here to bring her food and water. And she had soon understood that the elf was not authorized to tell her anything, as each time she had asked something the small creature had violently bang her head against the walls.

She had been horrified by the situation and the elf's condition. The creature was wearing ragged clothes, and looked abused. When she had asked her if she was mistreated, Dory had broken her own fingers, screaming that she had no right to speak ill of the master. Hermione had since refrained from asking her any questions, feeling sorry for the creature.

Obviously, the mad world she had fallen into did not follow the laws of ordinary mortals, and slavery and torture were openly tolerated. Just like abducting people. It seemed Tyler Greengrass and the one he called the Dark Lord belonged to some sort of mafia with telekinetic powers...

She had also reluctantly conceded that some people and creatures were able to teleport from one place to another, as the elf did that every day. Hermione had wondered if, if she concentrated hard enough, she would be able to teleport herself too. She had tried to visualize her house, but it had not worked. She had also tried to visualize the exact places from where she had seen other people teleport, like her kitchen, or the room where she had been kept, but she was obviously not able to do that. Perhaps one had to have a special gadget for that? A wooden wand, like the ones of Tyler Greengrass and the Dark Lord? But the house elf did not seem to own one…

Hermione had also wondered if her family had warned the police, and if anyone would find her down in this cell, and hopefully bring her back home, far from these men and their strange powers.

The words of the red-eyed man were looping in her mind. He had talked about keeping her alive, and she could not help wondering, worrying, why. In her mind she had imagined the worst scenarii. That she would be tortured and killed by these psychopaths as soon as they would get what they wanted from her; and that no one would ever find her body.

She had spent a lot of time trying to open the door or to break the window pane. She had also tried to scrap the floor and even the walls. But her actions had left no trace at all, except for the pain in her hands when she had tried to hit the walls with all her strength. She had not been able to sleep anymore, waking up each time with startling nightmares where she fled red eyes that invariably caught her.

The only good news was that her wounded shoulder had properly healed during those two days, and that if it still made her suffer, the pain was becoming less and less important.

oOoOoOo

On the evening of the second day of her captivity, the door of her cell finally opened again. Hermione stood up briskly and pressed herself against the back wall, her heart beating erratically in her chest. Two men she had never seen before came inside. They wore almost identical black robes, and must have been about her age. They looked at her with such obvious disgust that she instantly felt terribly uncomfortable. What could possibly justify such aversion on faces of people she never met?

"What do you want?" she asked as they stepped towards her.

"Shut up Muggle!" the one on the left snapped.

Muggle? It was not the first time she heard the word, and if she had no idea what it meant, it was obviously an insult if the scornful tone was any indication.

The two men stepped closer and soon they were towering her. They grabbed her shoulders and then turned her roughly to face the wall, her face crushed against the cold stone. When they grabbed her arms to join them behind her back, Hermione finally reacted and tried to struggle but it was too late. A moment later she felt a rope coil around her wrists.

As she was turned around again she kicked the one holding her shoulders between his legs. He immediately released her, and she tried to free herself from the other, but it did not worked and the second man held her firmly against the wall while his colleague cried in pain.

"You filthy Muggle!" the one she had attacked shouted.

Then she was hardly punched in the face. She screamed in pain and tears appeared in the corner of her eyes.

"Let go of me!" she struggled hysterically.

The man punched her again, in the belly, making her bend forward. For a few moments her breathing was completely cut off and she felt she would never be able to breathe again. Then air painfully reached her lungs again and the coughed hard, while her two jailers dragged her away from the cell.

"Shut up and follow us or we'll break all your bones," one of the two men grunted when she began to try to get away again.

Knowing she cannot win this fight Hermione stopped struggling and they pulled her down the halls and the stairs. During the journey she tried to memorize both their path and all the corridors they passed, hoping she may use this information later.

In spite of her efforts to remain focused and self-controlled, her anguish rose at every step, and reached its climax when she recognized the large wooden doors. She did not wish to go into this room. She did not wish to meet the Dark Lord again. She did not wish to know what he had planned for her.

"Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle request an audience," one of them announced to the painting.

Hermione tried to free herself from her jailers, but the two men glared at her, and she calmed down. She did not need them to hurt her again. Her situation was already precarious enough without it. But when the doors opened she would have given a lot not to be here, and she feared her heart was finally going to fail her in the next seconds.

"No, no," she murmured with despair.

She did not want to be in front of the man. She did not want to suffer again. But despite her prayers, nothing suddenly saved her and she was dragged to the middle of the study and forced to kneel. One of the men even pressed heavily on her head, forcing her to keep it down. Humiliation overwhelmed her, causing some tears of rage to gather in Hermione's eyes, and she clenched her fists out of anger.

"Get out," the icy voice of the Dark Lord dryly said.

Hermione felt the pressure on her head and arms relax and she staggered up, staring in fear at the Dark Lord. Was he going to throw those Crucio on her like the last time? Was he going to try to burn her eyes again? Was he going to laugh while she was suffering? She was ready to do anything to avoid the pain she had experienced last time, even if she was also determined to find out what was going on.

Voldemort watched the girl silently. She was looking at him with fear, of course, but there was also a glimmer of defiance deep in her eyes. A bruise was appearing on her right cheek, and amusingly it was quite symmetrical to the one she still had on the other one, making her look like the fool she was. Still, she stood upright and her gaze was vigilantly travelling between his eyes and his wand he casually held in his right hand. Obviously she had quickly learned to fear what could come out of it.

He could read her expressions like an open book, but her exact thoughts remained hidden from him, and it was a sensation as unusual as not feeling an aura. Lazily, he took a step towards the girl, but unlike the previous time she did not back down and continued to look into his eyes. Even so, she could not hide the tension that had appeared all over her body when he had come forward and a satisfied smile spread on his lips.

He loved nothing more than to see the fear his mere presence inspired. He reach to her slowly, deliberately taking his time to watch her apprehension rose as the distance between them shrank. When he stopped right in front of her, he saw her swallow nervously, and resist her urge to back down. For a few moments Lord Voldemort looked at her without moving, relishing in the fear he could read on her insignificant face. Then he raised his wand.

"Are you going to kill me?" she suddenly asked, still looking straight into his eyes.

Such a foolish little girl.

"Most likely," he replied with indifference.

Death or slavery, those were the only destinies awaiting the girl once he will be done with her.

Hermione felt her panic rise. The man in front of her seemed to have no qualms about killing her and she did not have any wish to die. She was far too young. She had far too many things left to do. Damn, she had not even started her studies! She finally took a step back and frantically twisted her wrists behind her to try to free them.

"Calm down," the man in front of her ordered coolly. "Do not test my patience, and I won't kill you. Not today at least."

Hermione looked at him with fright. He seemed deadly serious, and the features of his perfect face reflected a bored expression.

"But, but... you have no right to do that! The police will find you!"

He only let out a cold laugh, and did not even bother to answer. Hermione's fear turned to anger at his haughtiness.

"Making weird things with your piece of wood and your Latin words doesn't give you the right to kidnap or kill people, or to mistreat house elves," she blurted.

Voldemort looked at her, slightly amused. Would she have not made a valiant little Gryffindor, ready to defend the defenseless at any price, completely ignorant of the world she had fallen into? It was almost refreshing to see someone so delusional about who he was and what he could do.

"I can do whatever pleases me," he replied with a smirk. "And unfortunately for you, no one can judge my actions."

As he said that, he ran his hand down Hermione's cheek before stopping it on her throat and squeezing it.

"And life is such a fragile thing," he continued evenly. "Don't you agree little Muggle?"

Despite her terror Hermione forced herself to stay as motionless as possible as the man's grip tightened more and more. The Dark Lord spoke of death with so little emotion that she did not wish to aggravate him anymore. Immobility seemed to her the least risky solution. Seconds stretched and Hermione began to run out of air. Her heart pounding in her chest, she wondered if the man would finally kill her right now, his cold face no longer reflecting any emotion she could read. She was about to try to pull away when the pressure on her throat suddenly relaxed, and Hermione loudly inhaled some air.

The man stood still as she caught her breath, and she tried to put into order what she had heard. The man was undoubtedly capable of strange things, but was he really above the law as he had suggested? She tried to control her shaking legs and raised her head up to look at the Dark Lord.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice slightly broken from her aching throat.

Without answering her question, the man waved his wand and she felt her hands being freed. The Dark Lord seized them as she was bringing them in front of her. Instinctively, Hermione tried to free her hands, but his red gaze made her freeze. He gently took off the two rings she was wearing and examined them for a moment before giving them back.

"Any other jewelry?" he asked.

"What? Er... Just… Just my earrings," Hermione answered.

Lord Voldemort ordered her to remove it, but even before she handed it to him with a trembling hand he already knew it was not what he was looking for. No magical power in these clearly Muggle jewels. Nothing from where the magical shield of the girl could have drawn its power.

"Nothing else, you're sure?" he coldly asked.

"No, nothing else," she replied in an anxious voice.

Voldemort frowned thoughtfully. There were two magical power generators in the wizarding world. Enchanted objects, and runes. Objects were mostly used, often in the form of jewelry. But runes could do the trick too. However, if there were any runes here, they could only be engraved on the skin of the girl, all around her body. The use of runes on a living being was a very unusual practice, but he still had to check it before dismissing completely the hypothesis. With a flick of his wand Voldemort undressed her. The girl shrieked as her clothes disappeared.

"What..." Hermione began, hastily pulling her arms against her.

"Shut up," the Dark Lord drily replied.

As if he wanted to rape a Muggle, when any pure-blood witch was more than honored to fulfil all his wishes.

The Dark Lord grabbed Hermione's arms and pushed them aside. She felt extremely uneasy. The last man to have seen her naked was her father when she was still a toddler. She did not even dare to undress in front of her friends when they went to the swimming pool, and she was now completely naked in front of a complete stranger. A psychopath. She tried to disengage herself, but the man's icy gaze dissuaded her from struggling. She stood still as he studied her, as if he was looking for something on her skin. But as far as she knew, her skin was perfectly normal. No tattoo and few small birthmarks.

The man made her turn around with a dry gesture and continued his silent and very unsettling examination, detailing her back. He let go of her hands in the process, and Hermione took the opportunity to cover her chest with them. She had never felt so vulnerable.

She reassessed her opinion a moment after. She felt even more vulnerable naked, with a wand pointed at her, the man's hand again on her arm to prevent her from evading the spells. The spells, however, did not seem to have any effect, and the man finally took a step away. Hermione looked at him, trying to decipher his unreadable expression. What was he looking for? What were these spells supposed to do? She twitched as he raised his wand again, but the next moment she had all her clothes back and the Dark Lord was no longer looking at her.

Without paying any more attention to the girl, Lord Voldemort was once again deep in thought. No runes then, since none of his revelation spells had reacted. That left only two possibilities. Either the shield was fed by a jewel itself masked by the protection, or it drew its power directly on the girl's magic. The second possibility was without any doubt more plausible. Meaning that Hermione Granger was more likely a Mudblood than a Muggle.

"What are you looking for?" she asked.

Voldemort turned to the girl who had the audacity to interrupt his thoughts with her unwelcomed questions. The next moment, his Cruciatus hit her and she collapsed to the ground screaming in pain.

oOoOoOo

Voldemort finally stopped his spell and called the two Death Eaters he had assigned to guard her. As soon as they arrived he ordered them to get the Muggle girl out of his office.

He looked distractedly at his desk, where some books dealing with magical shields were left. But it was way too classical books. He will have to get in touch with his booksellers to ask them to find some more advanced books about the most powerful magical shields, as well as about magical auras masking. He had some ideas about what might be at work here, but he would surely need to test a lot to validate his theories.

If the shield actually drew on the magic of the girl, it was linked to magical auras manipulation, and he knew an Ethiopian mage well versed in the subject that may potentially help him. But he could not see how to get relevant information from him without revealing more than he wished on the subject. Especially if he planned to reuse this magic against the magi at some point in time. He would have to do with books for now.

But in the meantime, and despite the fact that he particularly liked to investigate new magical horizons, he had other issues on hand. After he had overthrown the minister of magic eleven years ago, he had made sure to discourage any form of rebellion. He had arrested Dumbledore and had him executed by Bellatrix in the middle of Diagon Alley to serve as an example. He had threatened to kill those who would stand against him again. A rebellion and a dozen bloody deaths were enough to make the elders of this stupid Order of the Phoenix understand that he was deadly serious. He had also durably humiliated blood-traitors, subjecting them to the same obligations as half-bloods. The magical power of all the young wizards of unclean blood had been controlled, and those with the most potential had been closely watched.

Lucius Malfoy had taken care for the next few years to circulate anti-Muggle propaganda, relating horrible stories about Muggles abusing their magical children, or torturing unfortunate wizards if they managed to get their dirty hands on them. Lucius Malfoy had succeeded to substantially raise the hatred of the average wizard for the Muggles, while making them believe that Lord Voldemort's reign was merciful in prohibiting attacking them.

The International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy was not something Voldemort could afford to break. That would be the trigger for foreign magi to unite against him, and even with his current power he was not sure he could defeat them all at the same time. Not yet anyway. Even though Dumbledore was no longer among them, there were still some decent wizards around the world. But as long as he did not threaten the statute of secrecy, he could do whatever he wanted.

The slavery of Muggle-born children, taken from their parents from an early age, was presented in the magical alliance as a wonderful opportunity that Lord Voldemort granted them, despite the taint of their origin and their blood. The wizarding population turned a blind eye to Mudbloods' slavery and the regime excesses, too frightened to do anything about it. And Voldemort had not hesitated to remind them from time to time what was happening to those who dare to defy him. Nobody ever wanted to be questioned by his lieutenants, and even less by himself.

He was the most powerful wizard alive. Nobody in Europe could compete with him, and since he was the sole ruler of the magical alliance he was spending even more time exploring all the possibilities of magic. For ten years no one had even dared to challenge him. But since last year, a small group began to emerge from the shadows. Some attacks, missed for the moment, had targeted his Death Eaters.

It was not much, more skirmishes than real attacks, but as a wise man of power, Lord Voldemort knew he had to quickly punish the culprits to prevent this from ending up in a bloodbath. Oh, he would win; he had no doubt about it. But it was much easier to keep the power over all those pointless wizards if no one questioned his law. He would ask Bellatrix to focus personally on this subject. Let's see if these rebels were able to fight against the most fervent and the cruelest of his lieutenants.

oOoOoOo

"There must be something to do!" Hermione muttered, pacing her cell.

She reviewed what she had learned since her abduction. She was definitely in the hands of people with terrifying powers. And, as her time with the Dark Lord had confirmed, the wand seemed to be a key element. Whenever these men made movements with their wands, with or without an incantation in Latin, strange things were happening. She had heard only two incantations of which she could see the effects. Crucio and Accio. For the others she could only guess, like this Magia Revelio, which should logically reveal the magic.

"Well, step number one, I need to find a wand," decided Hermione. "Step two, I cast a Crucio on the so-called Dark Lord. And step three, um, I'll improvise."

She winced at the weakness of her plan and sighed. She had nothing better, and even if she knew her plan was ridiculous, at least it gave her some hope.

oOoOoOo

 **AN:** Thank you all for reading this chapter. I would really love a review from you :)


	4. Chapter 4

Hi,

Thank you very much for the reviews / favs / alerts. It's always making my day to hear from you!

Enjoy the new chapter :)

Have a nice day,

Perhentian

oOoOoOo

 **Chapter 4 - August-September 1998**

When Lord Voldemort felt through his wards that his four closest Death Eaters had arrived in the small parlor in which they used to meet, he did not stop reading the manuscript he had in front of him. These were notes written by Morgana le Fay, describing her vain quest to conquer death. He had found this treatise by sheer luck in an American witch's home. She was a descendant of the Sayre family, linked to both Morgana le Fay and Salazar Slytherin. It had been very easy to recover the book and to make the witch forget that she ever possessed it.

The treatise itself was not extraordinary, except the mention of some Egyptian artifacts which should have had the power to ward off death, but Morgana herself had never been able to find them. Voldemort closed the book carefully, and made it disappear from his desk with a flick of his wand. He then got up elegantly, hissed a few words to Nagini, who had curled up by the fire, and went out of his office.

When he entered the parlor a few minutes later, Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, Severus Snape and Tyler Greengrass immediately knelt in front of him. The Dark Lord lazily waved them to stand up. One glance was enough for him to understand that Tyler and Bellatrix had information they were not eager to share. Voldemort could feel their nervousness despite their seemingly impassive faces. He took the time to sit down, his Death Eaters imitating him, before turning to the British Minister of Magic.

"Is there anything you would like to tell me Tyler?" he asked in a cold voice.

Tyler hesitated a moment, but finally complied, knowing perfectly well that the Dark Lord did not like to wait. At least his inner circle's Death Eaters were smart enough to keep him from waiting when they had bad news.

"There was a new attack today my Lord," Tyler Greengrass announced.

Voldemort felt his anger grow. These incidents were becoming more and more frequent. Too frequent.

"Who was targeted?" he curtly asked.

"Fenrir Greyback, my Lord," Tyler Greengrass answered. "He claims that there was an attempt to break into his house during his absence. He spotted unknown odors in the park and the forest around it, but it seems they did not manage to get inside."

Voldemort looked at the only witch in the room, whose hands were slightly shaking. Feeling his eyes on her, she turned her head towards him. Her eyes shone with both admiration and fear.

"My Lord..." she began.

"Bellatrix, haven't I asked you to get rid of these rebels?" he asked in a too calm voice.

"My Lord, they are leaving no traces behind them, they..."

"I want results Bella, not justifications," Voldemort interrupted her coldly.

"Yes my Lord, of course my Lord," Bellatrix replied, bowing her head.

"If I may my Lord," Lucius Malfoy began.

He paused, and Voldemort made a dry gesture, urging him to continue.

"My son Draco informed me that many of the traitors' children have finished Hogwarts last year," Lucius explained. "Haven't they Severus?"

Hogwarts' headmaster nodded briefly, and a grin distorted his face.

"Indeed," he said as the Dark Lord's turned his attention to him. "Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter all finished Hogwarts last year my Lord."

"Harry Potter, the name rings a bell," the Dark Lord thoughtfully commented.

"His magical aura is particularly powerful," Severus Snape supplied. "We discussed it at the end of the last school year."

Voldemort indeed remembered what Severus Snape had told him about the magical level of Hogwarts' outgoing students. The magic of the Potter brat was strangely out of the box. Who would have guessed that the spawn of James Potter and his Mudblood wife would be so powerful?

"Haven't I told you to watch him closely?" Voldemort asked in an even voice that was all the more threatening.

"He is watched, my Lord," Tyler Greengrass assured him. "We had him take an insignificant position at the ministry, under the close supervision of Augustus Rookwood. But no will of rebellion was observed from him."

Voldemort looked at his Death Eater with contempt. Potter. Longbottom. Weasley. These names had been too much of a concern when he had seized power to ignore them now.

"Bellatrix, put all the former members of the Order of the Phoenix under surveillance. And all their children too. If these attacks continue, you will answer to me personally."

"Yes my Lord."

oOoOoOo

For four days and four nights, Hermione clung to her battle plan to keep sane. She was going to obey the Dark Lord, waiting for him to get close enough for her to be able to grab his wand. Then, before he could react, she would throw him a Crucio. That should give her time to run... somewhere out of here. A large part of her believed that there was absolutely no chance for it to work, but Hermione was determined not to lose hope. She needed at least a glimmer of hope not to become crazy.

When the door of her cell opened again, six days had passed since her abduction, and September was just starting. She recognized the two men of the last time, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. She straightened up quickly and watched them suspiciously as they approached. They were still looking at her as if she was some kind of pest.

The two men came to stand just in front of her, and Hermione realized they were unintentionally leaving an open space between the door and her. If she could get a little closer to the door, she should be able to escape. It was risky, but she decided to try it. She let some of her fear show on her face, and made her gaze shift sheepishly between the two men, hoping to make them believe that she was too much afraid of them to disobey.

"Don't hurt me, please," she begged them. "I'll follow you."

The two exchanged a surprised look, obviously wondering how to react. Hermione calmly took a step towards the door, then two, without them recovering. Idiots. Not daring to believe her luck, she suddenly sprinted. Blessing their slow reaction, she exited the cell and rushed through the hallway. She knew that in a few meters it will lead to a staircase, and once at the top of the stairs she could try to leave behind her pursuers in the numerous corridors.

She heard the two men finally start to chase her. She ran as fast as she could and reached the bottom of the stairs. Not being very athletic, she was already out of breath and cursed her bad physical shape. Hearing the men get closer, she hurriedly went up the stairs, climbing them four by four. She must have gone up half way when she felt a hand curl around her ankle. With a sudden gesture she managed to free her leg, but the resulting loss of balance made her fall ahead, and she painfully hit the stairs.

Recovering as quickly as she could manage, she went on all fours and tried to run away. She was half-standing when one of her pursuers threw himself on her, seized her waist, and pulled her backwards roughly. She fell, dragging the man with her, and they tumbled down the stairs, at the feet of the second man. Before she could even get up, he grabbed her and pulled her on her feet.

"You bitch!" he spat.

Hermione saw as if it was in slow motion the man's fist draw closer to her face. Fear seized her and she tried to avoid it, but a moment later a sharp pain erupted in her right cheekbone. A second punch followed almost immediately the first one, this time in her ribs, and Hermione screamed in pain. She tried to free herself, but the man was pinning her against the wall with ease and did not let her go.

Hermione felt particularly stupid. She had needed to try something when her two jailers had involuntarily left her an opening. But now she had been caught and they were obviously going to badly hurt her. She should have followed them. She should have focused on her plan to seize the white wand of the Dark Lord instead of trying something else on the fly.

"Hey Greg, stop. I want to hit her too!"

The other man – Vincent then - got up and approached Hermione, an unhealthy joy stretching all over his face. The powerful punch he gave her made her lip crack and her head banged hard against the wall, leaving her stunned. The fourth hit hurt her belly and she let out a painful cry that sounded more like a whistle of agony. They continued hitting her, and after a while Hermione was no longer able to pay attention to what was going on around her.

The hits stopped and she vaguely heard the two men arguing next to her, before being pulled forward. Her legs no longer supporting her, she staggered and crashed against something soft. Probably one of the two men, her brain analyzed. Again she heard bursts of voices. A moment later, she felt herself being lifted from the ground and she sank into unconsciousness.

oOoOoOo

Voldemort put down the book he was reading and glanced at the door. Why were these morons of Crabbe Jr. and Goyle Jr. taking so long? He had not given them an insurmountable task by asking them to go and get his prisoner. And if he had forbidden them to use magic on her - it avoided getting into explanations they could not possibly understand - they certainly had the strength to make the girl obey. Each of them had to weigh at least twice her weight!

Perhaps he should have confided this simple task to someone less immeasurably stupid? But in this case, he did not know which even more uninteresting task he could have entrusted to the two poor imitations of a wizard. And at least he had no scruples about throwing them a pretty devious cut-throat curse that prevented them from mentioning anything about the girl.

His annoyance rose significantly after few minutes, and he quickly connected more deeply his magic with the one of the castle. He located his two servants and the girl in the hallway that came out of his personal prison, the three going towards his study. How on earth could they have lost so much time? Had they lost their way? If their fathers had not proved their loyalty – for lack of their intelligence – Voldemort would never have included Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle amongst his Death Eaters.

When the painting announced their arrival, he was standing in front of his desk, his wand in his hand, and was prepared to make the three of them pay for their lateness. The doors opened and he raised a surprised eyebrow at seeing Vincent Crabbe carrying in his arms a visibly unconscious Hermione Granger. He immediately noticed the trickle of blood flowing down the girl's temple, as well as her split lip and the hematomas that were beginning to appear all over her body.

Crabbe dropped the girl on the ground, and the two Death Eaters knelt in front of him. The girl shifted slightly without regaining consciousness, and Voldemort's annoyance turned to anger.

"Care to explain why her impure blood is staining my carpet?" he asked in a cold voice.

The two Death Eaters stiffened in front of him without answering and Voldemort suddenly felt like throwing them a well-deserved Avada Kedavra.

"I do not advise you to stay silent," he said in an even colder voice.

"The Muggle tried to escape my Lord," Goyle finally answered.

Voldemort had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes in front of such stupidity.

"Crucio," he casted.

The curse reached Crabbe, who screamed in pain and trashed on the ground, under the imperturbable gaze of Lord Voldemort.

oOoOoOo

The screams at Hermione's left get her out of her dizziness. Her head throbbed painfully and all her body was aching. She was lying on a carpet, and turning her head slightly she could see one of her jailers, Vincent Crabbe as she had learned earlier, screaming and convulsing on the floor. Dazed, she blinked without understanding what was happening.

Another glance told her that her second jailer was kneeling in front of the Dark Lord, and that the latter had a very cold face, sending freezing shivers down Hermione's spine. Before she could fully recover, Vincent Crabbe suddenly stopped screaming and convulsing, although he continued laying on the floor, moaning and crying at the same time.

"May I know how she even had the slightest opportunity to escape?" she heard the Dark Lord ask.

His voice was carrying death threats and Hermione shuddered. She turned slightly to better encompass the scene and this simple movement revived the pain in her body. Her memories suddenly popped up. Her escape attempt. Her fall on the stairs. The pain when they had hit her.

"She ran, my Lord," Gregory Goyle said.

"Crucio."

His screams suddenly filled the room and Hermione's brain finally began to analyze what was unfolding before her eyes. The Dark Lord was torturing his own followers? And they let him? Hermione's eyes widened as she saw the expression of absolute pain on the man's face. She suddenly tried to straighten up. She pushed on her arms but they shook uncontrollably and she let out a groan of pain. The Dark Lord's attention shifted to her and Hermione immediately wished to disappear, to blend into the carpet to avoid the red glare fixed on her.

The screams stopped and Hermione realized that the Dark Lord had had to lift his spell. The only noises in the room were now the undignified sobs of the two men, who were struggling to get back on their knees.

"Crabbe, Goyle, leave," the Dark Lord ordered dryly.

oOoOoOo

Lord Voldemort watched the two idiots rise up and stagger out, and he noted distractedly that he would have to make sure they stop hurting the Muggle. She had to stay alive if he wanted to understand how her shield worked.

When he looked back at the girl, he noticed that she was trying to straighten up. Her eyes seemed to look slightly unfocused and he concluded that she must still be lightly stunned. That was not really a problem. The spells he wanted to cast did not particularly require her to be aware of her surroundings. He pointed his wand at her and saw her eyes widen with fear. She tried to stand up abruptly, but fell back unsightly on the carpet. Her cry of pain echoed pleasantly to his ears and for a moment he enjoyed seeing her struggling to overcome her dizziness.

When she was finally able to sit, her eyes lingered over his magical wand again, and the tension appearing in her body made all the apprehension that inhabited her clearly visible. A smile spread the lips of the Dark Lord. It had not taken much time for the girl to learn to fear him.

"Please, tell me what you want," she pleaded weakly.

Voldemort did not bother to answer. So many people had begged him in his life that it had been a long time since he had been paying any attention to his victims' pleas. He cast his first spell with a wrist movement and the red ray hit the stiffened girl. She gave him a surprised look when she did not feel any of the effects of his spell and his expression became contemptuous. As if a Muggle like her could understand anything about magic.

When he cast a new spell she lowered her eyes and brought her knees to her chest in vain protection. She did not protest further, submitting completely, and he sneered. Even when they were granted a magical shield, Muggles were definitely an inferior species. A weak and submissive species.

Voldemort was able to plenty test his hypotheses without the Muggle girl moving. Her shield seemed to reduce the energy of the spells he sent on it, but without absorbing them either. Voldemort thoughtfully paced around her, turning his wand between his fingers. The energy of his spells could not be lost. If the shield was not absorbing it, it had to be spreading all around the shield. The Dark Lord calmly approached the girl. Feeling the residual energy of the spells always was a very delicate work that required high precision. He saw the Muggle tense again, probably scared to death by his closeness.

When he stopped only few inches from her, the girl suddenly lifted her head. It only took him a split second to notice the determination in her eyes instead of the fear he was counting on. At the same time as the girl leaped forward, hands extended to snatch his wand, he stepped back abruptly and cast a powerful expulsion spell. The girl screamed in pain as she hit one of the walls of his study, before falling back to the floor in a thump.

oOoOoOo

Realizing her whole body hurt too much after her collision with the wall to get up, Hermione only raised her head. She felt her heart's rate rise as she saw the Dark Lord's furious face. She looked fearfully at the wand she had tried to seize, now pointed at her. She did not know what was going to happen, but it will not be pleasant. She wondered confusedly if he was going to kill her right there, right now, for having dared to attack him. She had failed, miserably failed, and she knew she was going to pay a high price for it.

"Crucio."

She was not surprised to hear the incantation of the torture curse. She tried to avoid it, but she was far from quick enough. When the red spell came in contact with her, the pain filled all the cells of her body and she screamed with all her might and twisted on the floor. She felt like she was dying. Several times in a row. And in all the most atrocious ways. Her uncontrolled movements in no way alleviated the pain that ran through her body. She was not able to distinguish anything around her anymore. All her thoughts were focused on the pain radiating from her whole being.

When the curse was lifted, she needed a few moments to be able to formulate a coherent thought again. All her limbs were shaking and her cheeks were soaked with tears.

"It was a bad idea to display such foolish behavior, little Muggle. A very, very, bad idea."

The Dark Lord's voice was icy. Trying to control the shaking of her limbs, Hermione turned to face him and tried to get up.

"Crucio."

"No!" she pleaded in a voice made hoarse by her previous screams.

Desperately, she tried to move before the spell hit her, but her body did not obey her and the curse hit her again. The pain seemed even worse than the previous time. She had the impression that all her organs were teared off, that her skin was burning, and that her eyes were torn from their sockets. The blood in her veins seemed to carry acid, and pain was spreading from parts of her body that she did not even know existed.

The spell was lifted after few moments that seemed like an eternity to her. She could not stop the shaking of her body and she did not even try to get up, the slightest movement seeming an impossible task to tackle. Still, she forced herself to turn her head towards the Dark Lord. He was right beside her, his face as cold as ice. When she saw him raise his wand in her direction a wave of panic rose in her. Her terror was so powerful that she realized she would do anything to avoid having to relive the pain.

"Please stop," she begged.

"I'm just starting my little Muggle. Crucio."

For the third time the spell struck her and she lost all her bearings. She could no longer see the contours of the room around her, and she did not have any idea about how long she had already been suffering. She wanted the torture to stop, she wanted the pain to stop. She was going to became completely crazy at his rate.

"Please," she begged as soon as the curse was lifted. "Please stop, please. Please stop."

She could not restrain the supplications that came out of her mouth by sheer reflex. She had the impression of no longer controlling her body or her thoughts. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Dark Lord kneel next to her. He grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him straight in the eyes. No pity may be found in the carmine irises. The aristocratic face of the man reflected only scorn.

"Please," Hermione continued.

"Tsk, tsk, I should ensure that you will refrain from trying such stupid things in the future, shouldn't I?" he asked coldly.

Hermione felt her panic grow. She did not want him to continue. She wanted to never experience that pain again. She felt that her heart would give up if he continued, or that it would simply drive her mad.

"Please, I won't do it again. I promise I won't. Please," she begged.

He burst out laughing and released her face. Then he raised his wand again.

"Please don't..."

"Crucio!"

The pain returned immediately throughout her body and Hermione screamed again. She scratched her own skin, hit the ground, tried by all means to make it stop, but pain had taken possession of her nerves. Her whole mind was being occupied by this infernal pain. She could not see anything and could not hear anything outside her own screams.

When the curse broke, she burst into tears without being able to collect herself. She absently felt that she was lying face down on the ground, but she no longer had the strength, or even the will, to move. The only thing she could think of was the pain, the pain running through her limbs, the pain she wanted to never feel again.

She felt something on the side of her body, and then she found herself lying on her back, looking at the study ceiling. She instinctively brought her hands to her chest, but continued to sob in an uncontrollable way, tremors running through her body.

"Another round of Cruciatus will be needed to ensure your collaboration, don't you agree Hermione?" the Dark Lord said in a cold voice.

The way he pronounced her name violently accentuated the tremors of her body and gave her a desperate burst of energy to fight back.

"Please, I beg you. I won't do it anymore!"

"Crucio."

The pain exploded in her body and Hermione lost all sensations except this one. Her nervous system went mad under the pain, and her mind was no longer able to focus on anything. Her only sensation was the pain. She saw the pain. She heard the pain. She felt the pain. Her whole world was nothing but this agonizing pain.

When the spell stopped, Hermione no longer had any will to speak or move. Her gaze was fixed on the ceiling without seeing it, and completely incoherent images turned in her head without her being able or willing to interpret them. She no longer knew where she was or why she had suffered so much. She could not remember who she was, and for a moment she even struggled to remember her name.

She barely felt the Dark Lord turn her head, and finding herself looking at his red eyes did not trigger any reaction from her. She saw the man settle in an armchair a few steps away from her without deducing anything from it. It took several minutes for her to recover a little bit. When her brain re-connected the man in front of her and the pain she had experienced her body began to shake with fear. She tried again to implore the clemency of the man but only an inarticulate moan came out of her mouth.

When he got up and slowly approached her a wave of panic overwhelmed her. Struggling to regain control over her body, she tried to drag herself away from him, but she realized she was not able to. Too soon he was again squatting next to her, his eyes a few inches from hers.

"Do you know your place now my little Muggle?"

Hermione could not articulate an answer but frantically nodded.

"You better remember that," the Dark Lord warned her.

He walked away and she laid there for a moment, without having the strength to move, before her two jailers appeared in her field of vision and lifted her. As they were dragging her away, the Dark Lord stopped them and suddenly came to stand right in front of her. A cruel smile stretched his lips, and forcing her to look straight into his eyes again, he thoroughly crushed her main hope:

"Even if you had access to a wand Hermione, you won't be able to use it. Only wizards can, and you're only a mere Muggle."

Hermione did not know if that was true or not, but what she did know was that she would not try anymore to snatch the white wand from him unless she was absolutely sure she could do it with impunity. And in a corner of her head, her brain recorded one capital information: her captors were wizards.

oOoOoOo

 **AN:** Thank you all for reading this chapter. See you in two weeks :)


	5. Chapter 5

Hi,

Thanks to all the reviewers, followers, favorites and readers.

Here is the new chapter :)

Have a nice day,

Perhentian

oOoOoOo

 **Chapter 5 - September-October 1998**

When Crabbe and Goyle entered her cell to bring her to the Dark Lord, Hermione did not resist in the least. After her unfortunate attempt to escape, followed by her even more unfortunate attempt to steal the Dark Lord's white wand, she had laid low for the past three weeks. The Dark Lord had far too terrifying powers for her to oppose him right now, and her two jailers had proven that they would not hesitate to hit her if she did not obey them.

Despite her hopes at the beginning of her captivity, no one had come to rescue her, and she had realized that she could only rely on herself to get out of this hornet's nest. Preferably before the Chief Psychopath finally decide that he no longer needed her. Thus she was following their orders to the letter, analyzing everything and everyone around her to try to find a way out.

She had seen the Dark Lord seven more times, and if she had not been able to find any new opportunity to escape, she was beginning to better understand the world she had fallen into. Made of wizards with strange magical powers, as opposed to Muggles who lacked them, the former considering themselves to be far superior to the latter ones. One only had to listen to the tone on which the Dark Lord uttered the word "Muggle", or to look at the scornful expressions of Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle when they approached her, to understand that. Hermione held back a disdainful snort. True, she could not torture people with a wand, but at least she was not as crazy as them, thank you very much!

So when Crabbe and Goyle grabbed her arms, she let herself be dragged along the path she was beginning to know quite well. The path leading to the Dark Lord's study. During the four weeks she had been held captive, she had not been able to learn more about the identity of the red-eyed man, except that everyone addressed their "Lord" with the highest deference, and that they all feared to displease him. Hermione admitted willingly that it was probably justified.

As they walked down the halls, Hermione wondered what the evening was going to be like. If it was like the other times, the Dark Lord would make her drink strange-flavored potions, would cast lot of spells that would make him visibly dissatisfied, and then would have her returned to her cell without another word. She was trying to decipher the man in front of her, trying to ask questions when he was not too angry, but for the moment she had only managed to collect Cruciatus curses instead of the answers she was looking for.

When they arrived in the Dark Lord's study, her two guards as usual forced her to kneel on the floor and she complied with a resigned sigh. She was wondering if this nightmare would ever have an end, or if she will at least had an explanation at some point. Mid-September had now passed, and Hermione was getting more and more worried about her uncertain future.

"Get out," the Dark Lord ordered.

The man's voice was as always cold, incisive, and slightly contemptuous, and Hermione felt herself trembling with apprehension. She got up as soon as her jailers let go of her, and she had to muster all her courage to stand up straight and watch the Dark Lord right in the eyes, refusing to back down. Yet, as every single time she had met his eyes, fear overwhelmed her, and she had to make huge efforts to conceal it. She had decided during her first week here that she would not grovel at his feet unless forced to, and she will stick to her decision. However, the sarcastic smile that bloomed briefly on the lips of her vis-à-vis told her that her efforts had surely been vain.

The Dark Lord did not look angry, which was generally a pretty good omen. Hermione was less likely to receive a Cruciatus, and it was always a relief to get out of his study without being tortured. But sometimes the wizard's mood changed in the blink of an eye without any obvious motive…

"Come here Hermione," the Dark Lord ordered, waving to the part of the study beside his desk.

As always when he pronounced her name she broke out in a cold sweat. She struggled not to lower her eyes, and nodded briefly before heading to the indicated spot. She paused when she saw a pentacle drawn on the floor. It was not the first time that the Dark Lord's experiences included one. The first time she had seen one, she had struggled like hell not to enter it, associating the form with legends about the devil and convinced that nothing good would come out if she stepped inside.

The Cruciatus that had followed had made her scream, but not enter the pentacle. The Dark Lord had had to explain to her that it was actually a runic circle and not "a way to get in touch with the devil as your stupid fellows think" for her to accept to stand inside. All this fuss and nothing had finally happened. Nothing she was able to perceive at least, as the Dark Lord had seemed rather satisfied. Since then all his experiences included said runic circle.

Once she was inside, he casually handed her a vial filled with a thick, pale blue liquid. Hermione hesitated. It was the same potion as the last time, and the runic circle on the floor was also identical. Why was he repeating the same experience twice? She looked at the Dark Lord, who was quickly becoming bored by her lack of reaction. She opened her mouth, closed it by fear of a Cruciatus, but finally cannot restrain her curiosity.

"I thought that this… experience didn't work the last time?" she asked, pointing out successively the flask and the runic circle.

"And what a little Muggle like you could know about it?" Voldemort scornfully retorted.

He would have bet that the girl was not paying any attention to what he was experimenting. For him she was more an interesting experience than a living being. She existed only because he, Lord Voldemort, currently granted her that right. And yet she was always wasting his precious time asking silly questions. Had she still not learned not to aggravate him? But before he could raise his wand she blurted out a whole tirade almost without taking a breath.

"It's the same thing, isn't it? The pale blue mixture, with a rather thick consistency. Last time it smelled slightly of lavender. And the drawings of the runic circle are the same too. Here the symbol with four parallel lines, here the one with three points and three crossing lines, and on the left the one with the arabesques. The two others are also the same ones as the last time, aren't they?"

The only manifestation of Voldemort's surprise was a slight twitch of his lips. The runes he had drawn were rather complex to remember, but retaining few things by heart should be possible even for Muggles and their low cognitive ability.

"These two runes, right there, they are not exactly identical," he said with a lazy wave of his hand.

The young Muggle looked at them more closely. Voldemort was going to curtly order her to take the potion when she opened her babbling mouth again.

"Oh, it's the links between these two runes that have changed, not the runes themselves," she said. "This must change the meaning of the runic sentence I suppose."

"Indeed," Voldemort agreed evenly.

Inwardly he was somehow dumbfounded. He was sure he had not told the girl that the runes were a language. And the use of connectors to qualify the meaning of runes was something that was not within the reach of the average wizard.

Hermione raised her head and looked at the Dark Lord. His face did not reflect any emotion and she immediately felt uncomfortable. He stared at her for a few seconds and Hermione was already preparing herself for a Cruciatus when he handed her the potion vial again. She took it with a shaking hand, opened it and smelled the contents. Lavender. She had been correct to suppose that it was the same potion. Under the imperious red gaze of the Dark Lord, she hurried to drink the contents of the bottle and returned the empty vial.

The Dark Lord made the vial disappear with a quick gesture, before pointing his wand at her. Hermione concentrated, waiting to see what spell he was going to cast to try to memorize the incantations and the wand movements. However, the Dark Lord seemed to hesitate and slightly lowered his wand.

"Do you understand what I am looking for?" he asked with curiosity.

Hermione was taken aback by his unexpected question, before trying to gather her thoughts. It was the first time he had asked her a question that required an intelligent answer, and she felt strangely stressed to wrongly answer it, as if it was some kind of exam.

"There is... there is something around me that doesn't react properly to your... magic," she began.

She tried to read on the Dark Lord's face if it was the correct answer, but he had the same condescending expression as usual when dealing with her. She felt a flash of anger, immediately followed by a strong sense of hatred for the wizard in front of her, who arrogated to himself the right to judge her, even though he was himself the least moral person she had ever met. She inhaled deeply to calm down. Even if she had a mad desire to blurt out an unpleasant remark, she had already suffered enough Cruciatus curses to populate her nightmares for the next ten years.

"It's a probably a magical phenomenon, and I think you want to understand how it works," she continued with more confidence. "Perhaps to use it for yourself afterwards."

She stopped, not really knowing what to add. The man in front of her remained impassive. A heavy silence settled for a few seconds before the Dark Lord raised his wand again and began to cast spells. In spite of her desire to know more, Hermione stayed silent, feeling that the Dark Lord's mood was no longer lenient.

oOoOoOo

After this conversation however her relationship with the Dark Lord changed slightly, if the few sentences they now exchanged could be considered a relationship. When he was in a good mood, she could ask few questions, which he sometimes even answered.

Hermione now knew there were at least three different branches of wizardry: runes, spells and potions. And she could not help being fascinated by the world she discovered bit by bit. She always had thousands of questions in her mind, and the more information she collected, the less satisfied she was. She would have given a lot to at least manage to read the titles of the books lined up on several shelves behind the Dark Lord's desk, just far enough to frustrate her.

Not being able to access the books, she had prepared in her mind a list of questions that she asked one by one to the Dark Lord. He was often exasperated by her questions, letting her know his opinion by a chilling remark or worse, a brief Cruciatus. But sometimes, sometimes he provided her answers she thoroughly memorized.

"Are the runes targeting me or the spells passing through them?" she had one day asked.

"It depends on the runes. Some catalyze an external phenomenon, while others act on the object they aim for."

"Is it related to the orientation? Or to the runes' combinatorics?"

"It's linked to the runes themselves and the combinatorics. The orientation has no influence. The positioning however ensures the stability of the whole structure."

"The circle's positioning?"

"Some can be much more complex than that."

Other times, only contempt answered questions that she herself considered relevant.

"Is it the wand that gives magical powers to wizards?" she had once asked.

"Out of all the stupid things I had heard in my life this is indubitably the worst…" the Dark Lord had scornfully commented.

There was a topic, however, that Hermione had very quickly learned not to discuss, if she did not want to lose all hope: her own captivity. The answers she had received were invariably cooler than an icy shower.

"Will you let me go home when you'll have finished your experiments?" she had one day found the courage to ask.

"If so, it will be limb by limb" the Dark Lord had replied in a perfectly indifferent tone.

And even if she sometimes had managed to exchange several sentences with the Dark Lord, the terror he inspired her had not diminished. The Dark Lord's good days were much scarcer than his bad days, and Hermione unfortunately tended to regularly blurt out unwanted remarks. Her last faux-pas still fueled her nightmares.

"What is more powerful? Runes, spells or potions?" she had asked.

"I fail to see what an insignificant Muggle like you could understand about power," the Dark Lord had answered, obviously in a bad mood.

"It's not because I don't have any magical powers that I'm more insignificant than you!" Hermione had retorted without thinking, annoyed by the remark.

The Dark Lord had then been keen to prove her how insignificant she was by demonstrating his mastery of the Imperium, forcing her to grovel at his feet and to humiliate herself in front of him in every conceivable way. For several days afterwards, Hermione had cried with rage and despair every time she had remembered this mortification, ashamed by how easily he had been able to have her to submit.

She hated him, loathed him. His self-sufficiency, his arrogance, his disdain for anyone apart himself. She would not have thought that it was possible to consider with such ease that the world only existed to serve him. She knew she could not fight him for the moment, but she still hoped to at some point learn something that might help her escape.

oOoOoOo

End September Hermione met the Dark Lord's familiar. She sat as usual in one of the Dark Lord's runic circle when she saw an immense snake emerge from behind one of the armchairs beside the fire. She could not restrain a strangled scream, and hurried back a few steps before colliding with one of the walls, pointing hysterically at the snake at the same time.

In few seconds the snake had stopped just in front of her and she froze on the spot, casting frightened glances at the Dark Lord. He was watching the scene without pretending to help her in any way, looking perfectly calm and even slightly amused. Hermione held her breath as the snake circled her, and struggled to stay still as it rose to its full height, looking straight into her eyes.

For a few long seconds Hermione wondered when the snake was going to attack, and if she had any chance of dodging the attack. Given the size of the snake, she had no doubt that it could kill her easily, and her heart was beating far too fast in her chest. Then the snake emitted a long hiss, making Hermione stiffen uncomfortably. She was sure she was going to die when, to her utmost surprise, the Dark Lord burst out laughing.

And afterwards he uttered a long hiss. Completely frozen by the abnormality of the situation, Hermione took a few seconds to notice that the huge snake had moved away from her to slip right next to the Dark Lord. And she gaped in amazement as she saw him scratching absently the top of the reptile's head.

"You... you can talk to snakes?" she stammered.

The Dark Lord nodded briefly, before beckoning her to return to the runic circle with a dry gesture denoting his impatience.

"Don't pay attention to Nagini, and come back here," he ordered coldly when he saw that she was not moving.

Meeting his angry red gaze, Hermione hurried back into the runic circle, keeping her eyes fixed on Nagini's imposing presence.

"What did he said?" she asked, not being able to refrain her curiosity as she was sitting down again.

"Nagini asked if she could eat you when I'll be done with you," the Dark Lord answered with indifference.

Hermione looked for some traces of irony in his voice, but realized that he was deadly serious. She avoided asking what he had answered the snake, because she was pretty sure she would not like the answer. She promised herself not to take her eyes off the snake the next time she ventured into the Dark Lord's study.

oOoOoOo

Voldemort, strangely, found himself enjoying the moments he spent with the girl. Not thanks to the girl of course, but rather due to this complex magical problem that still resisted him. And seeing the little Muggle vainly trying to struggle between his claws was only a plus.

She might have shown some courage, or rather her eagerness to get answers, but Hermione Granger was truly scared when she was alone with him. He was feeling her fear when he was coming too close to her, or when he was pointing his wand at her. Her posture and face clearly indicated her unease and seeing her trying to hide it was particularly amusing. He always waited few seconds before casting a spell on her, just to see her tense with apprehension.

It was even more interesting when, in a jolt of courage, she blurted from time to time a remark that no one, absolutely no one in the whole magical alliance would have ever have dared to say. The sound of her screams when he then threw her a Cruciatus was beautiful music to his ears, as well as the supplications that invariably followed. By dint of seeing everyone bowing eagerly in front of him for years, he had almost forgotten the pleasure he felt in forcing submission.

He knew that the girl was still trying to find a way to escape. He could see in the questions she asked him that she was trying to understand the limits of magic, as well as to assess her own likelihood to use it. It was amusing to see her trying to collect bits of information, without even knowing that she would never be able to oppose him. Even if she turned out to be a witch, her talent will be far below his own. She mistakenly believed she was building an escape route by gathering the information the Dark Lord was giving her, without realizing how much that escape route was meant to always return to its starting point. At the mercy of Lord Voldemort.

In fact, the Muggle girl and the shield protecting her were a pleasant distraction from the incompetence of some of his Death Eaters, and from the failed attempts of Bellatrix Lestrange to catch hold of those new rebels. This rebellion, although less active in recent months, was worrying him more and more by its ability to hide cleverly from his lieutenant.

At least he was starting to get a good idea of how the girl was protected. He had already heard of magical emanations acting in opposite ways. Such emanations had the property of canceling each other's magical signature. But the few times he had found information on the subject, it was clear that it was still only theories. And strangely, the validation of the theory had come from the least likely place from his point of view: Hermione Granger.

It was an evening in October and he was particularly frustrated by his lack of results. When the girl had asked him what was his theory about her shield he had hesitated between answering and throwing her a Cruciatus to vent his frustration.

"It is theoretically possible to cancel the signature of a magical emanation, with an opposite emanation, but the literature on the subject is disappointing," he had ended up saying.

"Like waves in antiphase?" the girl had asked.

"Like what?" Voldemort had replied sharply.

"Waves in antiphase. The combined amplitude of two waves of the same amplitude in antiphase is null."

"It's only a theory," he had retorted.

"No, not only. It's verified for mechanical waves, and for electromagnetic waves. It's Muggle physics you know," the girl had replied, sarcastically uttering the last part.

Once more, Lord Voldemort had hesitated between answering and throwing a Cruciatus, but his curiosity had finally prevailed. The Cruciatus could wait a little more.

"Explain," he had ordered.

The girl had looked at him with big, astonished eyes before recovering.

"Hum, uh, it will be easier if I can explain it to you with few graphs."

He had given her a quill and parchment, and she had taken it with hesitation. At first she had only managed to scatter the parchment with ink stains, having obviously never written with a quill before.

"If you cannot manage to do better than a toddler with a quill, I'll put you under the Cruciatus for so long that you'll end up with the intellectual abilities of a kindergarten child," Voldemort had snapped.

The girl had then clumsily started drawing graphics with sinusoids, and Voldemort had been given his first waves' theory class. Hermione Granger was without a doubt an insufferable know-it-all, her explanations sounding exactly as if they were coming straight out of a book she would have learned by heart. But as soon as he had had questions, he had seen that she seemed to master her subject well enough. She had even been able to adapt her speech to the magical environment without so many mistakes.

He had found himself thinking that for a mere Muggle, she did not seem completely stupid. If anyone had told him a few months ago that he would have discussed fundamental magic with a Muggle, he would have not hesitated to throw an Avada Kedavra. Instead, he had only distractedly launched a Cruciatus to the girl, his thoughts already focused on how to apply what she had shown him as she trashed desperately on the floor.

oOoOoOo

The next evening Voldemort summoned one of his booksellers. He showed up in his study half an hour later, escorted by the Death Eaters currently guarding the entrance to Slytherin Castle. Only Death Eaters were allowed to move by themselves in Slytherin Castle, and only in the parts that the Dark Lord deemed unimportant.

Voldemort watched the bookseller with disdain as he bent in front of him. He oozed fear and submission, so much that it was itching Voldemort to torture him each time he was in front of him. Only the man's skills had for the moment protected him from death.

"How… How may I hel… help you my… my Lord?" the man stuttered.

His voice was so shaky that Voldemort's patience had already come to an end before he even finished his sentence.

"Crucio," he lazily casted.

The body writhing in pain in front of him and the piercing screams of the bookseller did not make him reconsider his Cruciatus in the least. If he finally stopped the curse, it was only because he had better things to do than to watch a pathetic wizard trashing in pain in front of him.

"The books you gave me didn't satisfy me," he announced calmly. "They only quoted what I was looking for."

"My Lord, I... I did my... my best. These are the... the only ones that exist on... on the subject."

Voldemort mechanically casted a new Cruciatus, before stopping it a few seconds later. The man in front of him did not even make an attempt to get up and remained pitifully spread on the ground.

"I... I'm still going to continue searching my... my Lord," the shape in front of him managed to articulate.

"It's the least you can do. And I would like you to look in another direction as well. Books dealing with magic in antiphase. Especially if it's research papers."

"Yes... yes my Lord. I... I'll do my... my best my Lord."

"I very hope so. Now, get out."

Voldemort watched him get out, and sat down thoughtfully at his desk. If it was indeed magic in antiphase that was used, he was almost sure of who was behind all that. After all, there were not many magi in fundamental magic Muggle-loving enough to not only apply their theories to magic but to also try to hide a Mudblood. But if that was indeed the case, what could have motivated Albus Dumbledore to try to hide Hermione Granger from the magical world?

oOoOoOo

AN: Thank you all for reading this chapter. A little review will make the author happy :)

See you in two week!


	6. Chapter 6

Hello,

As usual thanks to all the reviewers, followers, favorites and readers.

Below the next chapter :)

Have a nice day,

Perhentian

oOoOoOo

 **Chapter 6 - November 1998**

Lord Voldemort listened distractedly as Bellatrix boasted about the ploy her militia was planning to setup to catch the rebels. There was a lot of enthusiasm, but no tangible results, and Voldemort did not need to hear more of this rambling to understand that she was currently not succeeding. Bellatrix was his most motivated lieutenant, and she had no greater desire than to please him in any possible way, but sometimes she just managed to disappoint him more than anyone else.

She was always too zealous, almost insane even, using and abusing of her privileged position. She had probably tortured all her section captains to motivate them to get their hands on the rebels, but it was clearly not enough. And if the number of attacks had decreased in September, they had resumed since the end of October.

"That's enough Bella," Voldemort interrupted sharply.

Bellatrix gapped for a brief moment, frozen in the middle of her sentence, before recovering and bowing deeply before him.

"Lucius, did you made any progress in Russia?" Voldemort asked.

"Everything is going on as you predicted my Lord. The first prince of magical Russia Nikolay Bolkonsky is at the lowest in the popular opinion following the leaks concerning his… relationship with Alexandra Rostov. Vladimir Obolensky is about to overthrow him soon, on your behalf of course. The Mudbloods have already begun to flee the country," Lucius completed in a trailing voice.

A satisfied smile spread on the Dark Lord's face. A satisfied smile full of cruelty.

"When is the coup d'état scheduled?"

"Saturday, December 5th my Lord. In less than a month Russia will be part of the Magical Alliance."

"Alexandra Rostov?"

"She left Russia two weeks ago and has not been seen since then," Lucius replied.

Voldemort nodded appreciatively. Unlike Bulgaria, which had fallen in the months following Great Britain's seizure, Russia had resisted much longer. Not that most of the Russian wizards were against Lord Voldemort's discrimination regarding Mudbloods, but rather out of pride. The first prince of magical Russia had never wanted to submit to Lord Voldemort. Now he was ruined, had lost all support in his country, and would not live to see the New Year.

"Lucius, please ensure that his royal highness Nikolay Bolkonsky is left alive," Voldemort said, pronouncing the title in a scornful tone. "I'll take care of him personally."

There was nothing more pleasant than finally putting down someone who had been crazy enough to dare resist him. His contentment was, however, abruptly interrupted by the sudden intrusion of Corban Yaxley in the room. Voldemort was ready to Crucio the imprudent man who had the audacity to interrupt a very private meeting with his inner-circle Death Eaters when he noticed that he was covered with blood.

"My Lord, there has been a new attack," Yaxley quickly let him know, trying to catch his breath. "Thorfinn was badly injured."

A deathly silence fell on the parlor at these words, and the five Death Eaters turned pale, praying not to be the one who would suffer the Dark Lord's wrath. Lord Voldemort did not even need to be a Legilimens to read on their faces their fear, and their hope not to be the unlucky one. But none of these incompetents deserved any mercy. A moment later, the five Death Eaters fell to the ground screaming in pain.

oOoOoOo

When Lord Voldemort entered the room where Thorfinn Rowle had been brought, the few present Death Eaters respectfully bowed, and exited as quickly as possible, the Dark Lord's anger being palpable in the suddenly electric atmosphere around them.

Seeing Thorfinn Rowle's condition, it was obvious that something had happened. The Death Eater's robe was torn in several places, and his right arm was slightly burned. But the most important wound was a deep cutting spell on his left side. The Death Eater seemed to be in a daze due to the pain, not even noticing the presence of his Lord. Voldemort gave him a despising stare before looking at the five Death Eaters who had followed him.

"Yaxley, tell me what happened," Lord Voldemort ordered.

"We were going to Gringotts my Lord, when three people ambushed us in a small street and attacked us. They threw few curses and fled just afterwards."

The Dark Lord's grip on his wand became stronger and his anger dropped the room temperature by a few degrees.

"Have you managed to make prisoners?" he asked calmly.

Corban Yaxley tried not to fidget.

"They left too quickly," he said weakly.

Voldemort's anger raised a notch, and his magic began to crackle dangerously around him.

"Have you at least been able to identify them?" Voldemort asked, his voice carrying death threats.

Corban Yaxley's face instantly lost the few colors it still had.

"N... no my Lord. They... they were masked," he replied in a trembling voice.

Voldemort knew immediately that he was not telling everything. With a nonchalant gesture he raised his wand at the Death Eater, his red eyes fixed on him, waiting for him to complete.

"Speak Yaxley," he ordered when his Death Eater failed to cooperate.

"They were using Death Eater masks my Lord."

A Cruciatus struck the man the next moment. They had dared. These rebels had dared to use his own symbols against him. Without interrupting his Cruciatus he turned to his lieutenants.

"Bellatrix, I want you to find these rebels. Quickly."

"Yes my Lord," the witch hastily replied, bowing respectfully.

Voldemort's gaze then turned to his prime minister.

"This event should not leak in any newspaper."

"Yes my Lord."

Without a glance at neither the wounded Death Eater nor Corban Yaxley, who was struggling to recover from the Cruciatus he had just lifted, Lord Voldemort left the room. These rebels were becoming more and more annoying.

oOoOoOo

Busy with the rebels' issue, it took Lord Voldemort several days to return to what he had initially intended to do after the meeting with his lieutenants. But when he finally had once again some free time, on a perfectly normal Tuesday morning, Lord Voldemort apparated right in the center of the British Ministry of Magic's atrium. His arrival frightened the present wizards, and they all rapidly took refuge near the walls.

Voldemort did not grant them the slightest amount of his attention and walked with determined steps towards the elevators. Those waiting were eager to let him pass, and when the elevator arrived, its occupants exited so quickly that two of them fell to the ground in the process. It was not uncommon for Lord Voldemort to go to the Ministry of Magic, usually to see Tyler, or to visit the Department of Mysteries when something interested him. But his presence always caused a stir. It had to be said that the last time he had come he had reminded everyone that it was better not to be on his way unless you enjoyed the Cruciatus.

Voldemort entered the elevator and pressed the floor of the magical archives. Tyler had told him about his futile attempt to find documents about Hermione Granger, but he still had to check on his own. He was convinced that Hermione Granger was a Mudblood. There was no other possibility. The fact that the girl's shield drew on her magic seemed to him far more plausible than the use of an artifact to provide the substantial power needed to feed the shield. Few of the potential artifacts he knew could have been used as a source for such a powerful protection, and all would have had undesirable effects after a while.

When he arrived at the archives, he was seized with a moment of doubt. How old could Hermione Granger be? Somewhere between 17 and 21 years old, which led to a birthdate... between 1977 and 1981, between 1976 and 1982 to make it wider. With a wand motion, Voldemort summoned all the corresponding birth registers to him. These were automatically updated as soon as a wizard or a witch was born. It were Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin themselves who had enchanted them. A beautiful piece of magic.

Voldemort quickly scanned the scrolls, and without surprise found no trace of Hermione Granger. He tried in vain many revelation spells, more and more complex, before noticing something. The 1976 birth register reported many Mudblood children, while the following ones reported only few cases. Going through the years, he realized that there were 11 slack years, between 1976 and 1987. Corresponding to the Mudbloods being between 0 and 11 years old when he seized Great Britain's Ministry...

During the few years after his coup he had not really been worried about the low number of Mudbloods in Great Britain, thinking that some of his Death Eaters had killed them by trying to reduce them to slavery with too much enthusiasm. And he was never particularly interested in their fate anyway. But those slack years seemed to him much more suspicious today. Hermione Granger was clearly not an isolated case. Other Mudbloods seemed to have been hidden.

Voldemort tried several new spells on the registers, this time trying to determine if they had been affected in any way by Albus Dumbledore's magic, again in vain. He was now nearly certain that it was the old coot who had been behind all this. He had been a mage mastering fundamental magic particularly well. And Voldemort remembered it had taken him several days after he seized power before he could pin him down. Had the old man used those few days to hide the Mudbloods and bewitch the registers?

If so, he was not much more advanced. He had had Albus Dumbledore killed 11 years ago, and all the people he had suspected had been involved in his stupid Order of the Phoenix had been closely watched right after his takeover. None had been contacted by Dumbledore. Replaying in his head the few days after his victory, Voldemort visualized the last moments of his enemy's hunt. He had followed his magical signature in several Muggle villages, and he remembered finding it strange that the old fool was hiding among those he had always tried to protect. But now he realized that Albus Dumbledore was not only hiding.

Out of anger, his magic crackled around Voldemort and the shelves shook briskly. How could he had let that go? There were Mudbloods hidden in the Muggle world, escaping the power of his empire, and he had no idea how to find them. He could not really send Tyler and Bellatrix - his only Death Eaters powerful enough to feel the magical auras - to lock down all the Muggle cities in the country.

His gaze halted on the registers. Dumbledore had not been able to go to the Ministry when he was on the run, he was certain of it. The spells protecting the registers therefore were necessarily linked to those he had applied on the children. Only the annihilation of Hermione Granger's magical shield would bring him some answers.

His thoughts drifted to another good friend of Albus Dumbledore, Asma Bacaffa, an Ethiopian mage who had raised the manipulation of magical auras to the level of an art. Could he have been involved in this absurd initiative? And even if he had not, perhaps he would be able to break the old fool's spells? Voldemort wondered for a moment if it was wise to pay a visit to the mage, but decided otherwise. After all, if he wanted to use this shield to gain power over the few magi scattered around the globe, he had no interest in informing one of them about its existence.

oOoOoOo

A few days later, Hermione was sitting on the floor in a remote corner of the Dark Lord's study, not moving, waiting for a potion he had made her drink to take effect. Since the beginning of November the Dark Lord was in an awful mood, and Hermione tried to be as discreet as possible. The simple act of breathing the wrong way could trigger a Cruciatus, and at each of the wizard's movements she could not help but feel herself apprehensive.

She glanced at the Dark Lord. He was reading parchments and books at his desk, while taking notes with a jet black quill. Her sitting position made it impossible for Hermione to see anything, and there was absolutely no way she tried to stretch her neck to satisfy her curiosity. She could not stand to suffer the Dark Lord's Cruciatus anymore. She was fed up with the state of tension that inhabited her continually, the fear that never left her, and the threat that hovered over her life.

She was more and more desperate the past days, seeing absolutely no escape way from her situation. She could not do magic, she did not have access to a wand, and the only people she interacted with were two gorillas who did not speak to her and the Dark Lord, who she knew would eventually kill her without even a moment of doubt as soon as she was of no use to him. In a few days or weeks she would die, without being able to do anything, and her body would feed the Dark Lord's snake.

Feeling her hands start to shake uncontrollably, Hermione tried to block the panic that was rising in her chest. She knew she could not afford it. If she let herself be carried away by her dark thoughts she would soon lose her sanity. She could not lose hope. She had to continue fighting. She fiddled with her hands nervously, and let her gaze wander over the room, not dwelling on the luxurious decoration, but rather on the bookcases behind the Dark Lord. Once again she was disappointed not being able to walk through them. There must be so many interesting things inside the books. Maybe even an escape way.

The Dark Lord snapped one of the books he was reading, and the wave of panic that rose in Hermione overwhelmed her for a brief moment. She stopped breathing, watching from the corner of her eye the Dark Lord, all her muscles completely frozen by fear. But the Dark Lord did not even look at her and just grabbed another book from the ones piled on his desk. Hermione closed her eyes for a moment and exhaled, trying to evacuate the tension. Staying too long in the Dark Lord's study would drive her crazy for sure. Still better than being dead she sarcastically though.

She opened her eyes just in time to see the painting that guarded the front door come to life, and begin to hiss something towards the Lord of the house. The hiss gave her cold sweats, but Hermione looked curiously at the door. Nobody usually came into the Dark Lord's study when she was there.

Shifting her gaze back to the Dark Lord, she saw him frown, before agreeing. The door opened and Hermione saw Tyler Greengrass hurrying inside. He paid no attention to her and knelt quickly in front of the Dark Lord. He looked restless and Hermione wondered what could have happened. She remained as still as possible; hoping that neither of the two wizards would notice her and throw her out before she can heard anything interesting.

"What's going on Tyler?" the Dark Lord asked sharply.

Tyler Greengrass stood up and quickly answered.

"There was a new attack, my Lord. Bellatrix is badly injured. Severus his trying to identify the spells but he is not sure that she can recover from it."

Hermione had to hold back a surprised cry. A new attack? What did that mean? Were there gang wars between wizards? And how many wizards were there exactly? Tyler had just mentioned two names she had never heard before: Bellatrix and Severus. If her parents had not been original enough to call her Hermione she would have laughed at the strangeness of those names.

Before she could analyze the discussion further the Dark Lord got up. He stormed out of the room, not even glancing at Hermione, immediately followed by Tyler Greengrass. The study doors slammed behind them, and Hermione stayed frozen for a moment. She could not believe her luck. The Dark Lord was away, and Nagini was nowhere in sight either. She suspected she would not be able to escape through the windows or through the doors, but at least she could explore the study.

She rose slowly, her heart drumming in her chest, and after trying in vain to open the doors and the windows just in case, she went to the Dark Lord's desk. She looked worriedly at the doors. She knew that the Dark Lord would not be very happy to see that she had dared to move. Rather absolutely furious she thought, and a shiver of fear ran through her. She just hoped to have the time to return to her place when the doors will reopen.

Moving slightly so she was facing the door, Hermione leaned towards the desk. The Dark Lord notes were sprayed on it. She could see rune drawings on the scrolls, as well as equations and cryptic notes to say the least. She nervously glanced back at the still closed doors, and then turned to the books on the desk. "Permanent Magical Protections" seemed clear, but she had no idea what might be in "Arithmancy Applied to Paracelsus Contrition" or in "Occlumency Catalysts". She was slightly taken aback by the last book on the desk, carefully separated from the others. "The Tales of Beedle the Bard". Why did the Dark Lord had a book of children stories on his desk?

Not daring to touch those books, she headed to the bookcases. Her excitement and apprehension were both at their height. There were several shelves, all filled with carefully aligned books. She raised her arm, hesitated, and cautiously took one. She opened it in the middle and tried to understand what was written inside.

"The use of Samarkand's 18th rune can only be done if all other runes are of negative polarity, unless stabilization runes of a higher power than the spells bypassing earth runes markers are also introduced."

It was not with this kind of incomprehensible texts that she would learn anything useful. She scanned the slices of the books in front of her. Everything was way too obscure for her. What could she do right now with a book called "Hrund Charms"? She ended up finding a title that seemed more familiar to her than the others: "Confinement spells: from theory to practice". Could it be that it was dealing with something close to her magical shield? It was not really her priority, but as she doubted she could find a book that would allow her to escape by simply reading the title, she still pulled out the book about confinement spells.

She opened the first page and began to read the introduction. Not everything was clear, but the overall meaning was understandable. The book dealt with the confinement of magic in various objects to increase their power. There was a section about the items used to feed magical shields, and Hermione flipped through the book until she reached the corresponding pages. After a few introductory lines, a series of equations filled the following pages. They were supposed to determine the magical power that should be stored inside the item, based on the power of the shield and the duration. She bit her lower lip and focused on the text.

"So, if I want a shield that lasts 10 years, and protecting from one magical unit...," Hermione mused aloud. "Oh, but I have no idea what the redistribution constant of an object can be worth, as well as its magical regeneration index..., ah, and the basic unit of time is in seconds, that must surely give a very high result for several years!"

She sighed and turned the pages to see if there was any other information after the equations. There were indeed drawings explaining the wand movements to be made to create a basic shield from an object in which magic had been previously confined. The movement series seemed frighteningly complex, and Hermione plunged into it to try to find some logic.

"Care to explain me what you are doing?" an icy voice asked behind her.

Hermione let out a frightened cry and turned briskly, finding herself face to face with the Dark Lord. Surprised, she let go of the book, which crashed into the floor in a thud. She moved backwards at the same time and violently hit the bookcases. She felt her blood freeze and her innards tensed in apprehension as she met the furious red gaze. There was no doubt that she was going to suffer. Her breath was caught in her throat and she desperately tried to sink into the shelves behind her back.

She jumped in fear as the Dark Lord moved, but he simply sent the book to a nearby coffee table. Unable to detach her eyes from his angered gaze, she barely noticed that he had done it without using his wand. She started to open her mouth, not even knowing what she was going to say to try to get out of this situation, but already the red ray of the Cruciatus was reaching her.

She collapsed as the pain started to spread in her body. Before she even touched the ground, she was screaming at the top of her lungs, her senses completely obsessed by the liquid fire that now seemed to circulate in her veins. The curse did not last very long, but the pain was still unbearable, and Hermione could barely catch her breath when it stopped. Her whole body was shaking and tears were streaming down her cheeks.

"It seems that you have not been properly taught to respect other's belongings..."

His voice was charged with icy anger, and his wand again rose in her direction. A wave of panic overflew Hermione as she clumsily straightened up.

"Please, I was just curious, I won't do it again," Hermione begged. "Please."

Voldemort looked at the girl at his feet. As if he did not have enough problems with Bellatrix presently being between life and death, without having gotten hold of a single rebel once more. No, he needed on top of that to find the unbearable Mudblood touching his precious books. He could read the fear on her face as she crawled away from him. But he knew that even if she was currently afraid, in few days her insufferable disobedient attitude would be back. No, Hermione Granger definitely did not fear him enough, and he will change it.

He approached and crouched next to her, until he was only a few inches away from her face, which had become considerably pale. The girl's eyes wandered back and forth between his face and his wand, and a cruel smile spread his lips as he made the few wand movements necessary for his spell.

oOoOoOo

Hermione blinked, surprised not to feel any pain. The Dark Lord recoiled slightly, and Hermione's sense of unease grew in face of his impassiveness. She was about to ask a question when she felt the floor beneath her shiver. Panicked, she tried to regain better control of her muscles still disabled by the Cruciatus. Her hands grabbed the bookcases and she tried to get up as the floor's movements increased in intensity around her.

Suddenly the floor quakes stopped, and Hermione glared at it. And what she saw only increased her panic. The parquet floor was starting to crumble. Pieces disappeared before her eyes, falling in a never-ending emptiness below. Her analytical mind assured her that this could not be possible but her fear of heights was far more powerful. She tried to strengthen her hold on the bookshelves, but it seemed to dissolve under her hands, and at the same time the floor gave way under her body.

By a reflex she did not think she can muster, her hands grabbed a piece of parquet hanging from the floor as she fell. Surprisingly, she managed to cling to it, preventing the next part of the fall. Her whole body dangled, held back by a thin floorboard and Hermione was utterly terrified. Above her the Dark Lord's study seemed to float alone in the void. The Dark Lord himself stood quietly on the edge of the precipice, and she saw him pointing his wand at her hand.

"No," she begged. "Please don't, please!"

She felt her hands slip slightly and she squeezed even harder, splinters sinking painfully in her hands. She saw the Dark Lord perform very slowly some wand movements and she heard the wood crack. In an instant the parquet's piece vanished and she felt her body topple over into the void.

She screamed in terror and she was sure her heart was going to fail her. The feeling of falling into the void was absolutely terrifying. And her terror grew even louder as she began to see the ground approaching at full speed. Too fast. She waved her arms desperately, trying in vain to slow down.

Then her fall stopped abruptly and she remained suspended in the void, her face turned to the ground. A glance at her right side made her see the Dark Lord floating calmly. Hermione tried to get up, but whatever was keeping her from falling seemed to also prevent her from moving anything but her head. Completely distraught, she tried desperately to disengage herself, her fear taking precedence over any rationality she might have had.

"So it seems you're afraid of heights my little Muggle..." the Dark Lord said in an even tone.

"Get out of my head," Hermione hissed.

"Oh but I'm not in your insignificant little head Hermione. You are building up this nightmare from your own fears. And I think you know perfectly well what's going to happen... now."

The realization hit Hermione at the same time as his words and she felt with horror the magic that held her dissolve. And she was once again falling. This time she was completely paralyzed by fear. Paralyzed by these rocks that grew bigger and bigger. She wondered briefly if it was possible to die in a nightmare. The ground finally filled all her vision. A moment later she hit it, and excruciating pain spread throughout her body.

oOoOoOo

Suddenly Hermione opened her eyes. She was back in the Dark Lord's study. The terror of her fall still possessed her, and she struggled to think coherently. She did not know if her environment was real or not this time. If the illusion was over; or if the floor was going to dissolve under her feet again. She got up as quickly as possible and clung desperately to the bookcases. Her heart was pounding and her hands were completely sweaty. The Dark Lord had moved a few steps away and he was looking at her, his face showing no expression.

She looked at him in dread as he nonchalantly raised his wand, and she felt her legs shiver. Her eyes desperately observed the walls and the floor of the study, trying to determine whether they were real or not. It was terrifying to know that he could use her greatest fears to induce visions. Very realistic visions since she had felt the pain that had engulfed her at the end of her fall.

She was almost happy when she recognized the Cruciatus' wand movements. Until the spell hit her. In addition to the pain, and despite the solid ground beneath her, she felt at the same time the horrible feeling of falling into the void.

"Don't you think that Epiales' illusions mix admirably with the Cruciatus curse, my little Muggle?" she heard without understanding anything, her mind paralyzed by pain and fear.

When the Dark Lord lifted his spell Hermione curled up on herself, completely detached from what was happening around her, uncontrolled sobs shaking her chest. A few seconds passed, before she felt someone brutally rising her and she realized that her two jailers had arrived in the room. Shivering, she let herself be dragged to the door.

"Sweet dreams my little Muggle," the Dark Lord cruelly said as they went out.

Hermione shuddered and realized that she would not be able to sleep tonight, too frightened by the thought of getting stuck in one of those nightmares again.

oOoOoOo

Voldemort watched his servants disappear with the girl. He had not even wanted to try what he had previously planned to do to break the barrier. The day had been particularly bad, and he knew before even trying that the potion he wanted to test on her would not work. And he really did not need another failure tonight.

He retrieved the book he had previously placed on the coffee table, and looked at the title with surprise. "Confinement spells: from theory to practice". A book he had retrieved from his main library three months ago when Tyler Greengrass had brought the girl to him. Throwing a detection spell, he looked at the pages she had read. The paragraphs with the Arithmancy equations had not been skipped and he wondered if she had been able to understand what was in this book. It would be a shame that a mere Muggle was able to understand more Arithmancy than most wizards, who were not even able to understand what an equation was...

His thoughts were interrupted by a pecking noise on one of the windows of his study. With a flick of his hand Voldemort allowed the owl to enter. He retrieved the letter and promptly chased the bird away. The content of the letter made him feel satisfied for the first time today. His bookseller had obviously found something.

oOoOoOo

 **AN** : Thank you all for reading this chapter, I hope you enjoyed it. A little review will make the author happy :)

See you in two weeks!


	7. Chapter 7

Hello,

Thanks for all the support!

Below the new chapter.

Have a nice day,

Perhentian

oOoOoOo

 **Chapter 7 - November 1998**

Lord Voldemort's following day began relatively well. Just after dawn he had received a message from Severus indicating that Bellatrix was now out of danger. He had been particularly angry with the Death Eater when he had learned that she had failed to defend herself properly. That she had been stupid enough to almost die. But he also knew that Bellatrix was far more dangerous when she was challenged. So the recovery of Bellatrix in a few days should finally ensure some results about the rebels. If not, he would have to take a close interest in these rebels, and he would be really pissed. He had already enough to do with the planning of the Asian countries governments' demise.

When the painted serpent guarding his study announced the arrival of his bookseller he immediately unlocked the doors. The bookseller had announced in his letter that he had found an essay entitled "Fundamental Magic Treatise: Magical Antiphase", and Voldemort could not deny that the title seemed promising. The man was introduced into his study and Voldemort quickly dismissed the Death Eater escorting him.

"My… my Lord. I... I've brought you the treatise I... I described in my… my letter, my Lord," the bookseller stuttered.

As usual, he was shaking nervously, and it was only thanks to the book he was already presenting to the Dark Lord that he escaped the Cruciatus curse. It was more a manuscript than a book, Voldemort immediately noted as he flipped through the pages filled in with handwriting. The author often wandered from the main subject, describing various unrelated topics during several paragraphs, but a quick glance through the book allowed him to know that he would find in this treatise the few answers he still did not have.

Closing the book he lingered on the author's name. Albus Perceval Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. His suspicions were confirmed. The old fool had not been able to stop himself from trying to protect the Mudbloods, at the cost of his own life. To be a mage of such power and to waste his life wearing purple robes and running a school full of idiotic children... Voldemort still did not understand how the old coot could have so much wasted his potential.

With a nonchalant hand gesture he dismissed the bookseller, who was clearly relived to get away without the slightest Cruciatus – especially after presenting a book written by Albus Dumbledore to the Dark Lord. Voldemort then indicated to the painted serpent guarding his study that he did not want to be disturbed in the following hours, and focused on the manuscript.

oOoOoOo

When the door of her cell opened, Hermione was surprised to see that it was not her two usual jailers who stepped inside, but an unknown man. He had long grey hair, was rather tall, and several unsightly scars crossed his face. He was dressed in a dark robe, like all the other wizards Hermione had met, but he had nothing of the natural elegance of the Dark Lord. Neither was he hung-up like Vincent Crabbe or Gregory Goyle. Instead, he radiated of something she can only qualify as bestiality. That immediately made her uncomfortable.

"Hmm, it has been a long time since I have seen such an appealing prisoner in these dungeons," the man laughed. "The Dark Lord has sent me to teach you a little lesson…"

Hermione looked at him apprehensively. This introduction was not sounding good at all. Was the Dark Lord still angry with her for daring to touch his books? Despite her fears the night before she had not had any nightmare when she had finally fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning, overwhelmed by tiredness.

She had thought that the Dark Lord's punishment was finished, that she would be okay, at least until their next meeting. But when she saw the man pulling a wand from his pocket and directing it at her, her blood froze in her veins. And her whole body tensed with apprehension as she recognized the wand movements.

"Crucio," the man casted, confirming her supposition.

Despite her attempt to avoid the curse it reached Hermione's chest. She stilled in expectation of the pain that always came with the spell... which felt strangely muffled. Surprised, Hermione looked up at the man, who seemed just as astonished as she was. She realized then that her shield had had to partially absorb the curse. And that the man was obviously not aware of its existence. Hermione berated herself for not having pretended to be in deep pain. After all, was that not what these wizards liked the most, to hear people scream in agony?

"Oh, accidental magic?" the man misunderstood.

He really did not seem to know anything about her protection, and Hermione suddenly hoped it will help her not to suffer too much. But she shuddered when he put his wand back inside his robes, and then paled as he pulled a long knife out of his pocket. Her shield did not protect her from physical attacks at all.

"Don't worry my dear, I know a lot of other ways to play with you," the man purred with a sadistic smile.

Fenrir Greyback was not one of those Death Eaters who had joined the Dark Lord for political power or influence. No, he was more of those who had joined the Dark Lord to indulge in their vilest instincts, without hiding. Fenrir Greyback had been more than pleased to torture and to transform as many people as possible in the 80s, but since the war had ended 11 years ago he had not really been able to attack random people without incurring the wrath of the Dark Lord.

So he had found himself another hobby, torturing prisoners who were from time to time held captive in Slytherin's Castle. They could not denounce him, as they were there to be tortured anyway. And with magic, nothing was easier than healing too visible wounds.

Fenrir Greyback enjoyed the pained screams of the girl while he ran his knife all over her body, artistically cutting her skin. She tried to struggle of course, but she was not really a match for his knife and his strength. It was exhilarating to hear her cry and beg him to stop. But he stopped only when his victim's gaze began to become unfocused, and he looked with satisfaction at the blood that now covered the floor.

He would probably come back the following days as this girl really was a nice victim. She was not too ugly either, maybe he could even have fun with her in a slightly different way next time. Satisfied, he conscientiously cleaned his knife, put it away, and cast several healing curses, in which he had become quite expert out of necessity.

His good mood quickly vanished when he realized that his spells had no effect at all. Although he had thrown them several times, the wounds of the girl were still widely opened, and her blood continued to leak gently on the floor. It did not take long for Fenrir Greyback to decide that his best choice was to run away, and he disappeared as quickly as possible from Slytherin's Castle.

oOoOoOo

As soon as his study's door opened Voldemort discarded the book he was reading and stood up with a satisfied smile. He had finally found what he was looking for. He was now able to tear apart the shield. And once it will be done, it would not be very difficult for him to learn how to create it again. But his satisfied expression quickly gave way to anger when he realized that only Crabbe, whom he had sent for Hermione Granger with his sidekick, had returned, and without the girl.

"Explain," he ordered in a chilling voice.

"My Lord, we feared she'll die if we moved her," Vincent Crabbe quickly said.

"You feared she'll die if you moved her?" Voldemort repeated slowly while raising his wand.

Vincent Crabbe felt his blood freeze and he hurried to answer before the Dark Lord had the time to throw a Cruciatus.

"She's injured, my Lord, there's blood everywhere," he explained hurriedly. "Everywhere!"

"Crucio!"

Lord Voldemort was furious. He was even beyond furious. When he finally had a good idea of how to break down the shield of the girl, Crabbe dared to tell him that she was injured! If she died before he could solve her mystery, he would make sure to skin the guilty ones alive.

He suddenly Apparated from his study to the cell, startling Goyle who was awkwardly waiting inside. At a glance he spotted Hermione, lying on the floor, covered in blood. Her eyes were glassy, her breathing seemed very difficult and she did not react at all to his arrival. With an abrupt gesture he sent Goyle flying out of the room and approached the girl.

He quickly cast a few diagnostic spells, but they returned blank, too weak not to be absorbed by Hermione's shield. She must not have been in this state for more than half a day, otherwise the house elf who brought her meals would have warned him. Her wheezing proved that she was in pain but alive. And she better stay that way.

Voldemort raised his wand and casted the most powerful healing curse he knew. But it was in vain, and he blew one of the cell's walls out of rage. Medical spells required a very precise dosage to be effective, as the slightest imprecision could have serious repercussions. If even this spell had had no effect, magic could not help his prisoner. In his mind, the Dark Lord cursed Dumbledore, the time the old coot had spent alive, and his stupid ideas full of failures.

He summoned Tyler, the only one of his Death Eaters who was aware of Hermione's existence, with the exception of the two idiots who were guarding her. The urgency of the call was important enough for Tyler Greengrass to only take a few seconds to appear, his right hand clutching his left arm that seemed to have literally caught fire. For a moment he was taken aback by the scenery, before noticing Lord Voldemort's anger and bowing eagerly in front of him.

"What can I do for you my Lord?" he asked.

"Find me a Muggle healer who can fix that," Voldemort ordered. "Now."

Tyler Greengrass glanced at Hermione Granger. Cutting spell? Knife? He had no idea what had happened, but he had to find a Muggle able to close those wounds. After his quick examination, he quickly left the cell. Lord Voldemort was clearly not in the mood to tolerate any question or waste of time.

He only knew one Muggle hospital, the one in which the Muggle Prime Minister had been treated once and where he had been asked to go to for their monthly appointment. He had not at all been pleased all those months ago at the idea of having to go there, but now he could only be thankful for the time he will save knowing where to go. He ran to reach the castle's apparition area, and wasted no time, Apparating directly into the hospital's lobby.

His arrival caused quite a stir among the Muggles, but he did not pay much attention to it. He would send them the Obliviators afterwards. His main mission currently was to bring back a competent doctor to the Dark Lord as soon as possible. Or he will have serious problems. He spotted the reception desk quickly and resolutely walked in its direction.

There was an important queue, and with a clever wand movement Tyler cast a Confundus charm at the crowd. If he was able to pass in front of everyone without any fuss, the secretary, spared by his spell, glared at him when he stopped in front of her.

"Sir, please stand in line like everyone else..."

"Impero," he cut her without waiting.

The secretary's eyes immediately became unfocused and she closed her mouth.

"Take me to your most competent doctor. To cure deep cuts. Now."

The secretary blinked twice, then stood up like an automaton and dragged him into the corridors of the hospital. Tyler Greengrass swore against the length of muggle hospitals' corridors. And their whiteness. And their Muggleness. He had not seen Hermione Granger's condition very well and was afraid to bring back a doctor too late. To accentuate this sense of urgency his dark mark had not stopped burning fiercely since he had left the Dark Lord. He was about to lose patience when they finally arrived in front of a room with several patients and a doctor among them.

"Dr. Alford," the secretary said. "Someone wants to see you."

The man turned around, surprised, and Tyler Greengrass did not wait for his answer to move towards him, grab him by the arm, and Apparate back to Slytherin Castle, guided by the dark mark.

oOoOoOo

If the beginning of Dr. Jonathan Alford's day had been the most classic one, the afternoon had suddenly rocked into the heights of improbable. He had hardly seen a man in a black cloak come forward and seize his arm that a feeling of compression and suffocation submerged him. It lasted only for a moment, but when it stopped, he was even more shocked. He had just been teleported from an ordinary hospital room to a kind of gloomy Middle Ages' cell, one of whose walls seemed to have been blown up.

He widened his eyes as he noticed a girl bathing in a pool of blood on the floor, before turning his gaze to the man of undeniable presence facing him. He was looking at him with a particularly intimidating expression and Jonathan tried hard not to fidget. The first man, the one he had seen in the hospital, let go of his arm and bowed to the other, and Jonathan Alford had to struggle to put his thoughts back into order.

"What... What's…?" He began, stammering lamentably.

The menacing man, whose anger was so palpable that the doctor shuddered, was suddenly just in front of him. He grabbed his doctor's coat and stared at him with a carmine glare that instantly froze Jonathan Alford's blood.

"Do something," he ordered, pointing to the girl. "Or her injuries will be nothing compared to what will happen to you."

Jonathan Alford stood still for a moment, before turning to the girl and getting closer to her. He did not understand the situation. Neither how he had landed here. Nor who were these men. Nor if he should take the threat seriously. But the man had asked him one thing, and it was the only thing he excelled at. He acted as every time a serious case happened in the surgical emergencies of his hospital: he concentrated on his patient and forgot everything around, because sometimes the limit between life and death depended only on a few minutes.

The girl was alive, she was even conscious, but her condition was not glorious. She seemed to have been stabbed all over the body, sometimes deep, sometimes superficially. She also had hematomas everywhere. Perhaps even broken ribs.

Her vital organs did not seem affected, but the blood she had lost was alarming and she did not seem to realize what was going on around her. It was necessary to put compresses quickly, and once that would be done, the girl would be out of danger. Jonathan fumbled in his pockets but he had nothing on him. Looking around, he saw sheets lying on a mattress in a corner, but they were stained with blood. He turned towards the two men, avoiding however to meet the red glance which made him particularly uncomfortable.

"Do you have compresses and suture thread gentlemen?" he asked in a professional tone, even though his voice was not as firm as he would have liked.

He could not hold back a shudder when the carmine-eyed man approached him.

"Look into my eyes," he ordered in a cold voice.

The certainty that this man could kill him without a moment of doubt crept unpleasantly into Jonathan Alford's mind, but he lifted his head slightly until he met the gaze of his vis-à-vis. He had just the time to tell himself that he wished to never be the subject of the fury he could detect inside, before he had the impression that his eyes had caught fire. Images of his workplace violently flashed in his head, without him being able to control anything.

The unpleasant experience stopped as suddenly as it had begun, and Jonathan put his hands to his eyes in an instinctive gesture of protection. He had never felt such pain in his eyes. He had the impression they had exploded and was surprised to realize that he had not lost his eyesight in the least. Before he could recover completely the man pushed him brutally and he found himself right in front of a small table with compresses, organized exactly as he was used to. He had only one second of hesitation, before grabbing what he needed and starting to work quickly.

Once he had finished putting compresses over all the wounds, he seized a needle and the suture thread, before stopping. Given the depth of the wounds, anesthetic was needed. The girl had not reacted so far, probably because of the blood loss, but stitching her wounds was going to be particularly painful without anesthesia. Mustering up his courage, he turned to face the two men.

"She should be brought to the hospital for anesthesia," he said.

"No."

The man's voice had slammed, irrevocable. And Jonathan Alford could swear he saw a bundle of sparks coming out of the man's right hand, before some of the rock fragments on the ground exploded into smaller pieces. He swallowed before speaking again.

"If she is not asleep, it will be very painful for her. And that could be dangerous," he added, seeing that the pain of his patient did not seem to bother them in the least.

For a moment he feared for his life, at the sight of the anger that appeared on the man's face, but finally he disappeared in a cloak motion just in front of him. Jonathan Alford blinked, astonished. He turned a questioning look at the other man.

"The Dark Lord will be back soon," he said.

The Dark Lord? Seriously? Was it a sort of mafia? If he had had any doubt about the dangerousness of the men in front of him it was no longer the case. He returned to the girl, wondering where he should begin.

He jumped in fear when the "Dark Lord" rematerialized in a pop right next to him. He handed him a vial filled with a liquid of a strange bluish color. Jonathan Alford took it and hesitated. Should he apply it on the girl's wounds? Should he make her drink it?

"Make her drink the whole potion," the other man provided, seeing his hesitation. "That should make her sleep about ten hours."

"Barely two," the Dark Lord commented irritably.

He was radiating anger and Jonathan Alford felt compelled to intervene.

"Two hours should be enough."

Neither men answered and Jonathan Alford turned his attention back to the girl. He gently made her sit up. Her eyes were still unfocused and she still did not react to what was going on around her.

"Miss," he said. "You will have to drink what I'll give you okay? So that I can cure you okay? You will feel better afterwards."

She did not seem to be able to hear him, but when he brought the vial close to her lips and slowly poured the liquid into her mouth she swallowed it by reflex. A moment later she was asleep and Jonathan began his work.

"Tyler, keep me informed."

The voice was cold, sharp, and an instant after a pop was heard. Jonathan Alford glanced behind him, and noticed that the Dark Lord had vanished again. The one named Tyler made an armchair appear out of thin air and sat inside as if nothing had happened, beckoning him to get back to work.

oOoOoOo

When Tyler entered his study one hour after, Voldemort was still in a foul mood. He had got rid of part of his anger by torturing the first fool who had fallen into his hands, but it had not calmed him down completely. He should have been unveiling Dumbledore's secrets instead of being dependent on a Muggle doctor. He hated to depend on anyone. And he hated even more to rely on an insignificant Muggle. He had even had to refrain from torturing him to make sure he could do his job properly! He glared at Tyler as soon as he came in, and Tyler hurried to kneel and talk.

"She's out of danger my Lord, the doctor has finished," he announced, hoping it would lessen the Dark Lord's fury.

Voldemort gestured for him to continue with a dry hand movement.

"He stitched up all the wounds. He also thinks that some ribs are broken or cracked but Muggles don't know how to fix them."

With a bored gesture Voldemort conjured a vial of Skele-Gro, which he levitated to Tyler.

"How should it be dosed my Lord?" the Death Eater asked cautiously.

"Three times the normal dose," Voldemort replied.

He got up, and dragging Tyler after him went down to the dungeons. He wanted to see for himself the condition of the girl, and to know how long this incident will delay the destruction of her magical shield. Since he did not exactly know the effect of the spell he had invented for it, he was going to have to wait for her to have recovered a little to try anything.

A well placed shortcut later they were in the cell. Hermione was laying on the floor, still asleep, almost all of her body covered in white bandages. Despite the blood that was still on the bed sheets and the floor, the scenery was much quieter than before. The doctor was squatting next to her, and got up quickly as they entered. His hands were shaking but he stood straight in front of them.

"What should be done now?" Voldemort asked him.

The doctor paled and Voldemort held an exasperated sigh. For now, he had other priorities than terrorizing a Muggle doctor. His death would anyway come soon enough.

"You should just wait, sir," the doctor answered, his voice slightly shaking. "Her wounds should take a few days to heal; she needs to rest a lot and uh ... maybe a cleaner location?"

Voldemort looked around him. Glooming walls and a damp, cold ground, as well as a worn-out mattress directly on the floor. The previously exploded wall and the blood stains made the whole place even more sordid and Voldemort had to agree that if he wanted Hermione Granger to recover quickly her cell was not the most suitable.

He made a sign to Tyler Greengrass, who immediately casted a levitation spell on the girl, who rose only a few inches. Voldemort raised a haughty eyebrow when he saw the exasperated look of his Death Eater.

"I'm sorry, I forgot," Tyler half-sighed.

He gently rested the girl's body on the floor, before magically creating a wooden board below her and levitating it. He went out of the room first. Voldemort turned to the doctor, a cruel smile on his lips, and made a quick gesture beckoning him to exit before him.

"After you, Dr. Alford," he said contemptuously.

Voldemort once again manipulated the castle to shorten their journey, and few minutes later they were at their destination, a guests' suite among so many others with a living room, a bedroom and a bathroom. Tyler laid the girl on the bed and made the board disappear. The girl did not move, and laid on her back, deeply asleep. Turning his eyes away from the Mudblood, Voldemort spoke to the doctor.

"You will stay here, Dr. Alford, and make sure that she heals as soon as possible."

"But..." the doctor began.

"Keep quiet," Voldemort ordered dryly. "Tyler, make sure the dear doctor does what is expected of him. And bring me Hermione as soon as she can stand up."

Then he disappeared.

oOoOoOo

When Hermione woke up, she realized that all her body was aching, but that she was laying in an incredibly comfortable bed, which was a first since her abduction three months ago. She opened her eyes and tried to straighten up, but the pain that suddenly ran through her stopped her. She let out a small cry, and a man she did not know immediately entered her field of vision.

"Calm down miss, you may hurt yourself if you move, your ribs are in bad shape," he said.

Hermione turned her head towards him. By doing so she noticed that she was in a large room, richly decorated.

"Who are you?" she asked. "What do you want?"

"I'm Dr. Alford. I healed you yesterday. I've made stitches for most of your wounds, but you have to lay down while waiting for your ribs to heal. You should feel a little better in a few days."

Hermione looked at him in disbelief, failing to understand what had happened, or how she had arrived here. Could it be that she was no longer in the Dark Lord's castle?

"Where am I?" she asked.

"Ah, uh, I don't really know. It's the one who is called the Dark Lord who has you transported here."

The small glimmer of hope that was growing inside Hermione died instantly. There were probably not many psychopaths who called themselves Dark Lords... Then she registered another part of the doctor's speech.

"You don't know where you are?" she asked.

He must not be a wizard. He looked even more lost than her, and she noticed that he seemed pretty nervous.

"Well, I landed here while I was in the middle of my service and they hadn't let me leave for the moment."

Obviously, the kidnapping was really not a problem for wizards. Before Hermione could answer something the door opened. Hermione raised her head slightly and saw Tyler Greengrass appear. The doctor abruptly pulled away from her and Hermione noticed the sudden tension in him, as well as his frightened look at Tyler. The latter approached them and Hermione gave him a venomous glare. After all, it was partly his fault that she had been abducted. He took a vial of potion from his robe and handed it to her without a word.

"What is it?" she asked, suspicious.

"A potion to heal your ribs Miss Granger. It will be painful but it'll save you from being bedridden for days."

Hermione doubted that it was really for her well-being that he had brought the potion, but she did not really see any way, or interest for that matter, to escape drinking the potion. She tried to lift her right arm to take the vial, but the pain in her chest stopped her immediately.

"I'll help you," Tyler Greengrass said.

Before she could answer him that she had absolutely no desire for his help, he lifted her head, and slowly poured the liquid into her mouth. She swallowed not to choke. Nothing happened at first, but then pain spread through her chest and she had to restrain herself not to scream. The pain was nagging, and if it was nowhere close to the Cruciatus curse it was still not pleasant. It lasted a few minutes, before it started to fade away. Her erratic breathing calmed slowly. Tyler was looking at her with indifference, while the doctor seemed to try to refrain himself from intervening.

"Could you check if it worked?" Tyler Greengrass asked the doctor in a clipped tone.

Hermione saw the doctor's hands shake when Tyler spoke to him. He was definitely not there of his own free will.

"I'll take a look at your ribs miss, if it hurts, it means that they are not fully healed. In this case, please tell me immediately."

Hermione nodded. His examination took a few minutes, quite unpleasant for Hermione, but the pain was now dulled.

"Well, it seems like all the ribs are healed," the man said in a surprised tone. "Can you raise your arms?"

Hermione tried to lift her arms. It was painful, but bearable.

"It looks like it worked well sir," the doctor said.

"Perfect," Tyler said before turning to Hermione. "Stand up Miss Granger."

"That's out of the question!" the doctor intervened.

A glare was sent to the doctor who stepped back and whitened instantly, visibly frightened by his own outburst.

"I... well... she cannot really do that without danger sir," he explained. "It may reopen her injuries if she moves now."

It was clearly courageous to oppose Tyler, and Hermione thanked him silently in her head. She did not feel at all able to get up without suffering martyrdom. Tyler Greengrass, on the other hand, did not seem pleased at all, and Hermione felt an icy chill run through her. If he wanted her to get up, it probably had to do with some meeting with the Dark Lord. And Hermione had absolutely no desire to be face to face with the Dark Lord.

"How long before she can get up?" Tyler asked the doctor.

"A few days would be the best."

"Do not make a fool of me doctor," Tyler said sharply. "Tell me how long at the shortest."

"T… Tomorrow morning," the doctor stammered.

Tyler Greengrass seemed to hesitate for a moment, his gaze wavering between Hermione and the doctor, but he finally nodded dryly.

"Come with me, doctor," Tyler said in a dangerous tone.

Hermione opened her mouth to try to defend the doctor, but Tyler cut her off.

"Keep quiet Miss Granger, and calm down. I assure you that you do not want to delay your healing. Call Dory if something's wrong," he added, already out of the room.

"You don't have the right to dispose of people like that!" Hermione shouted to his back.

But Tyler Greengrass did not bother to answer her and the door slammed behind him.

oOoOoOo

 **AN:** Thank you all for reading this chapter!

See you in two weeks!


	8. Chapter 8

Hi,

As usual thanks to all reviewers, followers, favorites and readers. I hope you still enjoy the story :)

I'll be quite busy tomorrow so I update a little in advance this time.

Below the next chapter.

Have a nice day,

Perhentian

oOoOoOo

 **Chapter 8 - November - December 1998**

Despite her nervousness, Hermione had felt asleep shortly after Tyler Greengrass and the doctor had left. When she awoke again, the sun was setting and she deduced that it was already late in the afternoon. She tried to straighten up but barely managed to. Even the slightest movement was making her wounds throb in pain. Once again, she had a grateful thought for the doctor who had prevented Tyler Greengrass from dragging her out of the bed earlier this day.

She spotted Dory, who was obviously watching her from a corner of the room, but otherwise the bedroom was empty and Hermione took the opportunity to observe it. It was a large room, elegantly decorated in green and beige tones. The bed was in the middle of the room, and there was also a large wardrobe, and a desk and a chair. The temperature was warm, and Hermione was surprised to realize how much the simple fact of being warm was pleasurable. She also noticed the clock on one of the walls, indicating that it was nearly 6pm. It was crazy how feeling warm and knowing the time now seemed to her the utmost luxury.

Hermione did not really understand what had happened to her. The horrible moments with the scarred man. The few fuzzy memories of the doctor's arrival. And then, her awakening in this room, with the doctor healing her and Tyler Greengrass keeping a close eye on them. Why the healing? Where was the Dark Lord? Had she been healed so she could be tortured again? And what would happen to her in the coming days?

Feeling her panic slowly but steadily rise, Hermione decided to try to reach the door in front of the bed, which probably led to the exit. Maybe, if she was lucky enough, Tyler Greengrass would have forgotten to lock it. Clenching her teeth to distract herself from the pain, she crawled to the edge of the bed. She was about to get up when Dory threw herself right in front of her.

"Miss Hermione must stay in the bed!" the house-elf said.

Hermione decided to ignore her and straightened up with the help of her hands. She was not even standing yet when a slight pressure on her chest made her gently tilt backwards. She looked in amazement at the house-elf's hands, stretched in front of her.

"Dory cannot let Miss Hermione leave the bed, Dory is sorry," the elf said with a firm voice.

"You can do magic?" Hermione wondered. "Like wizards?"

"Dory cannot do magic like the great wizards Miss Hermione. Dory can only do elven magic. Less powerful. But Dory mustn't let Miss Hermione leave the bed."

Hermione swore mentally. She had not known that house-elves could do magic. Then she stilled for a second. If the house-elves' magic was not as powerful as the wizards' one, how could it pass her shield? She realized then that she was dressed in a sort of shapeless nightgown and understood that the elf had had to specifically aim at her clothes for her magic to work. Paying no attention to Dory's frightful expression she gently removed the nightgown, and set one foot on the floor.

"No, no, Miss Hermione! You shouldn't get up!" the house-elf panicked.

She tried again to stop her with magic but without any effect, and Hermione smiled with satisfaction. She straightened up completely and took one step, but quickly felt to the ground due to her legs' wounds, the throbbing pain unbearable with all her weight on them. She stifled a cry and tried to ignore the pain. She was still wondering if she can manage to get up again, or if it was better to crawl to the door, when a new magical wave made her fly back onto the bed.

Hermione looked up at Dory, who, with a determined expression, was aiming for... her bandages!

"Miss Hermione must go back to bed," the elf ordered.

Hermione pondered a moment to remove all the bandages from her body, but finally changed her mind, being too afraid to reopen all her wounds. She shuddered when snippets of her aggression came back to her mind. Her blood on the floor of her cell. Her thoughts becoming increasingly blurred. The man's laughter when she vainly tried to protect herself. She shook her head to get rid of those flashbacks, and quickly tried to find a way to avoid staying uselessly in the bed.

"But... but I need to go to the bathroom!" she improvised.

She had plenty of time to regret it. Firstly, Dory did not let her out of her sight, even for a second, and forced her to go to the second door, leading to a beautiful bathroom. And secondly, Hermione found out that standing more than three steps in a row was absolutely unbearable.

After this episode, Hermione resigned herself to bed rest, and spent what was left of the day alternating between short and distressing naps, and daydreaming periods, her eyes fixed on the ceiling and her mind wandering in a perfect fantasy world, the last sanctuary of her bored mind the last three months to avoid the dark thoughts that came as soon as she reflected about the future. At least now she could enjoy a real bed, a first since she was brought to this castle. And the food that Dory served her for dinner was also much better than anything she had had since her kidnapping.

However, despite her efforts to remain calm, she did not fall asleep until late, worrying about Tyler Greengrass' planned return the next day and what will happen to her.

oOoOoOo

It was not until late in the morning that Tyler Greengrass and the doctor came back, and Hermione was waiting for them sitting on her bed, her face blank to prevent her fear to show. The atmosphere in the room was tense, and it was hard to tell whom out of Hermione, the doctor, or Tyler Greengrass was the least happy to be there.

Dr. Alford managed to stay professional despite his apparent anxiety and the oppressive atmosphere. He asked her to undress and removed her bandages one by one to check that everything was healing properly. Perfectly aware of her uneasiness to be half-naked, Jonathan Alford proceeded courteously zone by zone, covering her body using the bed sheets.

But Tyler Greengrass displayed no such courtesy, his eyes following the doctor's movements without looking away, making Hermione very uncomfortable, and she ended up turning her head to the opposite wall to avoid his unnerving gaze.

"So?" Tyler Greengrass asked dryly.

"It's healing well sir," Dr. Alford answered.

"Perfect," Tyler Greengrass said.

"It would still be better to wait a few more days before Miss Granger can move, to be sure there are no complications," the doctor added.

A quick glance from Tyler Greengrass was enough to have him shaking like a leaf.

"Do not forget to whom you speak doctor. Now, let me escort you out. Miss Granger, I'll be back in a moment."

Hermione watched Tyler Greengrass firmly grasp the doctor, and drag him out of the room. She quickly grabbed the nightgown, enjoying only moderately that the man had seen her nearly naked. But before putting it back she looked at her body and the sight of her wounds almost made her puke. Red scars were beginning to form in place of her old wounds, the suture thread clearly visible. She felt as if her skin had become a huge patchwork. She knew that it was going to fade, but the current result still scared her for the moment. And even if Hermione was not particularly focused on her appearance, she could not help but feel disgusted by her own body.

Tyler Greengrass reappeared fifteen minutes later, and when he approached her Hermione looked at him with apprehension.

"I brought you some clothes, Miss Granger," Tyler said, putting a pile of clothes on the desk.

He looked at her for a moment from head to toe before continuing.

"Go take a shower beforehand; I will wait for you in the living room next door. You have 20 minutes, don't be late."

"And if I refuse to come?" Hermione asked with a hint of defiance in her voice.

"I don't advise you to disobey, Miss. We both know you will not win that fight," Tyler said condescendingly.

Then he turned on his heels and left the room. Hermione waited a few seconds as a precaution, then stood up and took a tentative step. It was still hurting, but at least she could stand up again. She looked at the clock, grabbed the clothes brought by Tyler, and hurried to the bathroom.

The sensation of hot water on her skin was incredible, and only her apprehension made her get out of the shower quickly. Feverishly, she put on the robe provided by Tyler. It was a simple black robe, similar to those worn by wizards, but undoubtedly more feminine. For the first time in a long while Hermione felt correctly dressed. Her situation was not better than before, but feeling clean and wearing clothes instead of rags still felt wonderful.

Since she was imprisoned at Slytherin Castle she only had had cold water to shower, without any soap or even a towel. And as for her clothes, she only had had those she wore when she was captured. She had washed them from time to time, but it had been a long time since she had felt the softness of a clean cloth against her skin, and the good smell of shampoo.

When she came out of the room, using the door she had desperately tried to reach the day before, she found that there was indeed an adjoining living room, with several sofas and armchairs surrounding a coffee table, next to a fire. Tyler Greengrass stood up and motioned for her to follow him.

"Where are we going?" she asked fearfully.

"Is it so difficult to guess?" Tyler Greengrass answered calmly.

Hermione lowered her head and did not answer, fear rising in her. Tyler Greengrass was taking her to the Dark Lord, and she could only fear what was going to happen. They walked slowly, but even so every step hurt Hermione. Finally, they arrived in front of the Dark Lord's study, and Hermione closed her eyes for a moment to try to appease the tension that had invaded her body. As soon as they entered, Tyler led her to the middle of the room and helped her to kneel. Hermione winced in pain, but no sound crossed her lips.

"Stand up," the Dark Lord curtly ordered.

Hermione shivered when she heard the anger in his voice, but got up at the same time as Tyler Greengrass. The Dark Lord gesture him to get out and, far too quickly for her liking, she found herself standing alone in front of him. Mustering up her courage, she looked up and met the Dark Lord's gaze.

Voldemort glanced at Hermione. It was the first time he saw her wearing a witch's robe. She had to have taken a shower too, because her hair was still wet, and she was undoubtedly less filthy. She was standing upright and looking at him straight in the eyes, but as always he could read her fear in the tension of her body. The pain she was feeling as she was standing was also obvious, but Voldemort did not care. The black robe she wore covered almost all of her body, but her neck and a light cleavage. And the sight of the reddish scars running through the otherwise very white skin made the fury that the Dark Lord had continuously felt the past two days increase.

Hermione did not move as he stepped closer to her, knowing she could not run away anyway. She watched him approach, and swallowed with apprehension as she read his anger on every line of his face. When he was right in front of her, he said nothing, but raised his hand and skimmed the scar that she now had on her right cheek, down to her neck. Hermione winced under the painful touch but did not move, her heart pounding fast out of fear, her breathing completely blocked. Then, he skimmed the other visible scar, from her left shoulder until just above her chest. He pressed harder on it, and this time Hermione could not hold back a cry of pain. His gaze returned to hers.

"Who was it?" he asked.

He now radiated a controlled anger that was terrifying. A cold anger that petrified Hermione. A shiver ran down her back and her hands began to shake without her being able to control them.

"Answer me Hermione."

The fact that he could not get the information using legilimency made him furious and his wand hand itched.

"I don't know," Hermione said hurriedly, afraid to see him lose his temper. "A man, tall, with long grey hair, and a lot of scars on his face."

"Fenrir," Voldemort murmured.

"He said he was coming on your behalf," Hermione added, hoping to understand why the Dark Lord was so angry.

"On my behalf?" Voldemort coldly repeated. "And what else did he said you Hermione?"

He had come even closer to her, his eyes fixed on hers, and Hermione had to swallow before she could answer.

"Just that… that he was coming to teach me a lesson on your behalf," she replied. "It was because of your books, wasn't it?"

The Dark Lord looked at her coldly, still too close to her, and Hermione had to struggle not to step back. Then he briskly moved away from her and a cruel smile appeared on Lord Voldemort's face. Hermione felt an icy chill descend down her spine. She was beginning to understand that it was not the Dark Lord who was responsible for her aggression. And he was absolutely furious about it. He made a small movement of his wand that she did not know, without any immediate effect.

"What's g..." Hermione began.

"Keep quiet."

The Dark Lord's voice was cold and harsh, and Hermione closed her mouth. She stayed in the middle of the room for several minutes, not knowing what to do. She waddled from one foot to the other, struggling not to move while her body suffered from standing for so long. Finally the hissing characteristic of the snake's language rose from the doors painting and the Dark Lord moved.

"Sit down there," he ordered.

He pointed to an armchair in one corner of the room, and Hermione walked to it with relief. She had hardly sat down when the office doors opened, and her attacker entered the room. Instinctively, Hermione sank into the chair.

Fenrir Greyback knelt immediately in front of the Dark Lord and looked down.

"What can I do for you my Lord?" he asked.

"Get up Fenrir," Voldemort said coldly.

The man stood up, and Hermione could see that the Dark Lord's tone had made him uncomfortable. When he noticed the girl's presence, he whitened considerably, and the Dark Lord who had followed his gaze seemed to become more menacing than ever.

"Was it him?" he asked Hermione.

Hermione just nodded, unable to speak.

Voldemort pulled out his wand with feigned nonchalance. The anger that had boiled in him for two days had finally found its target. It was not the first time Fenrir had crossed the line, and this time Lord Voldemort's rage was at its maximum. How could the werewolf have dared to play with what belonged to him? How could he have been stupid enough to leave her half dead in her cell? How could he have even thought to thwart his plans?

"Well, well Fenrir, it seems that my charming guest doesn't keep a very warm memory of your visit..."

An instinctive tremor made the werewolf waver slightly, and he immediately went back to his knees.

"My Lord, please, I..."

"Crucio!" the Dark Lord hissed.

Hermione watched with a morbid fascination as the spell hit her attacker, before he started screaming in pain and trashing on the floor. The movements of his body seemed completely abnormal, highly disturbing even, and Hermione wondered if that was what she looked like when she was writhing in pain on the floor under the Cruciatus curse.

It was the second time she had seen the Dark Lord torture one of his men, and he did not seem more tender than with her. The last time she had seen him so furious was when she had tried to steal his wand. Feeling uncomfortable, Hermione tried to disappear into her chair. She could not deny that a small part of her had been satisfied with the man's fate, but that part had been quickly stifled by the screams of pain. It was long, too long, and Hermione wondered how the man could still be alive.

Finally, the screams stopped and Hermione deduced that the Dark Lord had lifted his spell. She looked first at the man on the floor, who was whining and struggling to get back to his knees. Then her gaze felt on the Dark Lord, and she shuddered when she saw his expression. Calm. Far too calm.

"My Lord..." Fenrir Greyback croaked in a broken voice.

"Enflamare."

It was the first time Hermione heard this spell. Her curiosity took over for a moment, before the horror of the spell hit her hard. Burns were appearing on Fenrir Greyback's skin as he screamed in pain again. As if he was burning alive. When the smell of burning flesh reached her, Hermione nearly thrown up. She stood up in shock at what she had just seen, and was about to protest when the Dark Lord, who must have seen her movement, gave her a deadly look. She felt back weakly into the armchair, her mind completely distraught by what was happening in front of her.

When the spell stopped, the man was covered with bloodied wounds, but that did not stop him from dragging himself to the Dark Lord's feet.

"My Lord, I wanted to please you, if you..."

"Osseus rupti."

Hermione could not help her muffled scream when she heard the man's arm break. The noise itself was atrocious, but it was the sight of the bone coming out of the man's arm that made her react. She could not bear to see someone being coldly tortured. People were not punished by torturing them, whatever their crimes. It was completely wrong, completely, completely wrong.

"Stop it!" she said, advancing resolutely towards the Dark Lord.

The Dark Lord turned to her and Hermione froze. His carmine eyes were full of rage, and Hermione was sure they could burn with a single glance.

"So it seems you too feel prone to disobey me…" he said coldly. "Come here."

But in front of his fury Hermione was unable to go any further, and he came to her, grabbed her by the arm and dragged her back with him to the center of the room. She staggered and his grip on her arm grew tighter, bringing her closer to him. Their bodies touched each other, and the refined scent of the Dark Lord surrounded her, contrasting strangely with the scene unfolding before her eyes. She wondered if her heart was going to fail her due to her terror.

"Please stop," she managed nevertheless to articulate.

"I'm just starting Hermione," he said in the hollow of her ear in a dangerous voice. "Look at what happens to those who dare disobey me."

Without letting her go, the Dark Lord raised his wand again, and the second arm of the man suffered the same fate as the first. Then it was his legs. The man's voice had broken a long time ago and the sounds he emitted did not even seem human anymore. When the Dark Lord began using cutting spells, Hermione yielded to what she considered cowardice and closed her eyes. But that did not make her deaf, and the minutes that followed seemed to her the longest of her life.

When the Dark Lord finally released her, her legs were not supporting her anymore and she felt to the ground. The rough contact with the floor made her open her eyes again. A few feet from her Fenrir Greyback was nothing more than a broken body bathing in his own blood, and this time Hermione could not help but throw up everything she had in her stomach, her whole body shaking anxiously.

"You're a useful servant Fenrir, but my leniency will not happen again, am I clear?" Voldemort stated.

"Yes, my Lord," Fenrir replied in a broken voice.

Voldemort looked disdainfully at Fenrir's body in front of him, and casted a Stupefy followed by a memory charm. The werewolf would not remember Hermione Granger. But he would remember very well Lord Voldemort's anger and disappointment. He summoned Tyler with a quick twist of his wand, and his Death Eater arrived in the office few seconds later. His face remained blank when he noticed Fenrir Greyback's condition and he bowed to the Dark Lord.

"Get him out," Voldemort ordered.

Just as she merely noticed Tyler Greengrass enter the room and bow, Hermione only partially acknowledged how Tyler lifted Fenrir Greyback by magic and got out of the room with him. Her gaze remained fixed on the huge stain of blood that permeated the carpet in front of her. It felt like the smell of burnt flesh was still filling the room, and she was not able to recover from it.

"Get up," Voldemort ordered.

Hermione did not realize that he was talking to her, still too shaken from what had just happened. She was not even able to take her eyes off the carpet. Until she was violently lifted up. She screamed in pain, and had to cling to the desk behind her not to fall back.

"Don't make me ask you twice," the Dark Lord said in a chilling voice.

"I'm sorry, please, I'm sorry," Hermione begged, completely distraught.

She wondered for a moment if he was going to vent out his anger on her now. If she was going to end up in the same state as her attacker. The Dark Lord froze for a moment, then he seemed to relax and Hermione felt the frantic beats of her heart calm down a little.

Voldemort released the girl from his grip. She was alive. He was going to finish his experiments. He was finally going to be able to get hold of everything Dumbledore had tried to hide from him. He would personally make sure that no one could enter the girl's room without his consent, and as soon as this Muggle healer declared that she was fully healed he would break her shield.

He watched as the girl straightened slightly, her questioning gaze fixed on him. Then she seemed to realize that she was still clinging to his desk and she hurriedly removed her hands. He noticed with slight amusement that she could not help but stare at the books on his desk, before looking at him again with a frightened look. Her fascination with books was almost unhealthy and Voldemort wondered if she wanted to read them in the hope of finding a way out, or if the knowledge in those books really interested her.

oOoOoOo

The next morning Hermione woke up with a start. She had spent a terrible afternoon and a terrible night, unable to stop seeing pools of blood filling her vision as soon as she closed her eyes. She curled up on her bed, and stayed in that position until Dory brought her breakfast. She was going to tell her that she had no desire to eat when she noticed that the elf had also placed what look liked a book on the desk.

She rose, and approached the desk. It was indeed a book. She hesitated to take it, the events that followed the last time she had touched a book still too vivid in her memory. But then her curiosity got the better of her and she picked it up. "The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1" by Miranda Goshawk. Not even glancing at the breakfast in front of her, she hurriedly flipped through the book. It was a kind of a textbook for beginners in charms.

She did not emerge until several hours later, when the elf brought her food for lunch. She swallowed her meal without even paying attention, and then spent the rest of the day memorizing by heart the book and all the wand movements.

It was a whole new world for her. Nothing to do with the torture spells she had witnessed. There were also dozens and dozens of different spells, ranging from household utility to healing spells. Few of them were precisely described but it was already enough to make her daydream. When the house-elf returned with her evening meal, she had finished the book.

"All right, give it to Dory Miss Hermione, Dory will give it back to the master," the little elf said.

Hermione hugged the book tightly in a rush of possessiveness, before handing-in it to Dory, berating herself for having been stupid enough to admit that she had finished it.

"Could you ask him if I can have another one please?" she asked the elf.

Dory lowered her ears, visibly ill-at-ease.

"Dory doesn't have the right to speak to the master if he doesn't ask her a question," the little elf said. "And Dory cannot disobey the master. Dory is sorry."

The image of Fenrir Greyback bathing in his blood flashed in Hermione's memory and she shuddered. Reading all day had at least made her temporarily forget this event.

"It doesn't matter," she assured her.

However, when the elf returned later in the evening to clear the leftovers, she brought her a new book, "A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration" by Emeric Switch.

The following days she plunged so much into the books that the Dark Lord had sent her that she forgot to eat and sleep. Dory had quickly brought several stacks of books, all of them textbooks on various subjects, and Hermione was afraid she would not have the time to read them all before it was too late.

The only event that could get her out of her readings was Dr. Alford's visits, always accompanied by Tyler Greengrass looming presence. The doctor checked each time that everything healed well, which was the case, and that she did not suffer too much. He had also assured her that the scars would fade with time.

Finally, six days after the incident, the doctor announced that she was completely healed, and Hermione knew that these wonderfully peaceful days were over.

oOoOoOo

 **AN:** Thank you all for reading this chapter! As always, reviews are highly appreciated.


	9. Chapter 9

Hello,

I am so sorry for being late! Too much work the previous weeks and this chapter is kind of huge!

I hope you will like it! :)

A quick precision to manage expectations: as it was noted by one of the readers, the Voldemort/Hermione pairing is very long term one, and the story is more about how it is coming to it than about the pairing itself.

Have a nice day,

Perhentian

oOoOoOo

 **Chapter 9 - December 1998**

When Jonathan Alford announced that she was completely healed in the middle of the afternoon on Friday, December 4th, Hermione was as usual in her bedroom with the doctor and Tyler Greengrass. As always in this situation, the atmosphere was particularly tense. Dr. Alford was terrified by Tyler Greengrass, Tyler Greengrass had obviously no desire to be here, and Hermione was trying to do her best to ease the tension that the doctor's abrupt remarks made sometimes raise.

She remembered that Tyler Greengrass was supposed - at least officially - to intervene in the Great Britain's government, and had a petty satisfaction knowing that he wasting his time with her. The announcement of her healing, however, made the deeply bored look of Tyler Greengrass morph to a confused one.

"What about the scars?"

"I can't do anything more, sir," Dr. Alford said in a slightly trembling voice. "They will weaken over time. In 3 or 4 years they should be much less visible."

"3 or 4 years?" Tyler choked.

It took him a few seconds to regain his composure.

"You cannot do anything to erase those scars?" he repeated in a dangerous tone.

"No, it's not possible," Hermione answered instead of the doctor.

Tyler Greengrass had never tortured the doctor in front of her, but she did not have any doubt about what was happening to him outside her room. And she did not really want the wizard to hurt him when he was just stating a simple truth. Tyler Greengrass turned to her and she held his gaze. After spending three months with the Dark Lord, Tyler Greengrass did not really scare her anymore.

"All right, then it's time to announce the good news," Tyler Greengrass said stiffly.

Hermione paled slightly, understanding to whom he was going to announce the good news. She saw him roll up his left sleeve, and press his wand on his forearm. He had a black tattoo on his skin, which Hermione could not see quite well, but who moved under his wand. The room was silent and all remained motionless for a few minutes before the Dark Lord suddenly materialized among them.

As always, he was elegantly dressed, his black robes reinforcing the impression of power and danger radiating from him. Tyler Greengrass bowed to him as Dr. Alford stepped back, a frightful expression on his face. Hermione took advantage of sitting on the edge of the bed not to kneel. If the Dark Lord noticed this, he did not make any remark to her, all his attention focused on Tyler.

"I was on my way out Tyler," the Dark Lord said, clearly unhappy at being disturbed.

"The Dr. Alford has finished healing Miss Granger my Lord," Tyler explained. "You asked to be notified as soon as it was done."

The Dark Lord glanced quickly at Hermione and his face went cold.

"What about the scars?" he asked.

Hermione could have giggled at the exact same phrasing. But she had the intimate certainty that the Dark Lord did not really like people giggling in front of him. Were there people close enough to him to laugh with him anyway? And about what? How to torture innocent people?

"He says he cannot do anything about it," Tyler replied.

Hermione saw the Dark Lord glare at the doctor, who whitened considerably and began to shake even more than usual.

"Don't Muggles have any way of getting rid of scars?" the Dark Lord asked coldly.

"No, it's not possible," Hermione said again.

The Dark Lord's glare was far more impressive than Tyler Greengrass' one, and Hermione shifted uncomfortably, her heart pounding painfully in her chest. She knew it was better not to upset the man. But she felt indebted to the doctor who had treated her attentively, and who moreover had hardly asked to be in this situation.

"Tyler, take care of Dr. Alford," the Dark Lord ordered, his gaze still on Hermione. "I would like to talk to my lovely guest before heading to Russia."

Tyler Greengrass nodded and quickly led Dr. Alford out of the room. Realizing that she was nervously fiddling with the sheets, Hermione brought her hands in front of her and sat up straighter, wondering how it was possible that she had not yet received any Cruciatus.

"What are you going to do with the doctor?" she asked the Dark Lord once they were alone.

"Tyler will get rid of him," he answered in an emotionless tone.

He was still staring at her scars with a disgusted grin that conveyed all the good things he thought about Muggle medicine.

"You can't do that!" Hermione replied, shocked by his indifference.

While Hermione recoiled slightly after her outburst, certain that this time she would not avoid the Cruciatus, an amused smile appeared on the Dark Lord's face. Surprised, Hermione noticed that he was in a far better mood than usual. She wondered if it had anything to do with what he was going to do in Russia.

"And why not?" he asked ironically.

"But because that's wrong!"

The Dark Lord burst out laughing. A very cold laugh. So it seemed it indeed was torturing or killing people that made him laugh... And Hermione knew it was not with such goody two-shoes remarks that she would be able to make him change his mind.

"You might need a doctor again someday. It would be stupid to kill this one when you know where to find him," she ended up saying.

"And why do you care so much about his life, Hermione? He's only a Muggle doctor among many others. He's nothing to you."

His voice was bored again, as if he did not understand why she was wasting his time talking about an insignificant doctor.

"Because he's probably something to someone," Hermione answered vehemently.

She just could not believe it was so natural for someone to kill other people. But the expressionless face of the Dark Lord was a proof that was the case.

"You should rather worry about your own fate," he said evenly.

"About my own fate? You have found the answer?" Hermione asked fearfully.

"It's been a while since I have understood how to get around your shield. Just before the incident a few days ago in fact..."

That explained why he had been so furious. Hermione did not really imagine the Dark Lord as someone patient when he had something in mind...

"Why hadn't you healed me magically?" she asked curiously. "Isn't it enough to increase the power of the spells to bypass my shield?"

"Medical spells require a very precise amount of power to work correctly," the Dark Lord said with slight exasperation.

Hermione carefully registered the information in a corner of her mind.

"Unfortunately, I have to leave now to celebrate a small victory, but as soon as I will get back, it will be the end of your protection Hermione."

His tone was exceedingly satisfied and Hermione prayed all existing divinities that he would freeze to death in Russia and never come back. Then a cold shiver ran down her spine as she registered the second half of the sentence.

"Are you going to kill me afterwards?" she asked.

"Probably."

The indifference in his tone was frightening.

"That's why you granted me all those things? The bedroom? The food? The books?"

A cruel smile stretched his lips and he pulled back slightly, obviously getting ready to leave.

"You still have two remaining days my little Muggle, take good advantage of them," the Dark Lord said.

"Please don't hurt the doctor!" Hermione asked quickly.

The Dark Lord completely ignored her last remark and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

Hermione stood frozen on the spot for a few minutes. It could not be possible. She was not going to finally die, murdered by an unscrupulous wizard! She had been afraid of dying in the first days, but in the recent weeks this fear had gradually diminished, replaced by the routine of her meetings with the Dark Lord. Admittedly, these meetings could have been unpleasant, incredibly painful even, but she had always hoped to at some point manage to escape! But her fear of dying was coming back now, brutally.

For the first time in a long while, Hermione tried again to throw herself on the door and on the windows. She tried desperately to throw an Alohomora without a wand, reproducing the movements she had learned in the books, but without any results. The memory of Fenrir Greyback's bloodied body was also coming back in her mind, but this time it was her own body that she imagined instead of his.

Finally, she sat on the floor and leaned against the wall, her body shaking, and she took a dozen of minutes to calm down, forcing herself to soothe her breathing and the beating of her heart. Berating herself for having lost so much time with her pointless crisis, she dried her tears with a furious gesture. Then she got up and grabbed "Theory of Magical Defense Strategies", hoping that with some luck, when her shield would break, she might be able to try something.

oOoOoOo

In the end she was only allowed one day of debatable freedom. Even a little less, as Tyler Greengrass came looking for her late in the morning of the following day. Hermione rose quietly when Dory told her that the man was waiting for her, and, with a detached attitude she would not have thought herself capable of, delicately closed the book she was reading, smoothed her dress, and walked resolutely towards the living room.

Tyler Greengrass was as always openly displaying his displeasure to have to look after her, but unlike

Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, he was at least perfectly well-mannered with her. He opened the door to the corridor while she waited patiently, and she followed him of her own free will afterwards. She was hoping that the Dark Lord will mess up his spell, that he will fail miserably when he will try to break her shield, so she can have a little more time. But she knew that even if she by some miracle managed to have few more days, there was no way it would give her the opportunity to escape.

Still, she made an effort to memorize all the way from her room to the Dark Lord's study. It took them several minutes to reach it, and once again she wondered how huge the castle really was.

As soon as they entered the study, she glared at the Dark Lord, who just smirked at her. She refused to kneel, and Tyler Greengrass had to struggle with her for a few moments before he was able to throw her on her knees. The whole scene only accentuated the Dark Lord's sneer. Clearly, his trip to Russia had been successful, and to Hermione's dismay he seemed in an even better mood than the day before. What had she done in her short life to never have her wishes granted?

"Tyler, leave me with my charming guest," Voldemort said ironically.

Lord Voldemort was enjoying the defiant gaze the girl was throwing at him. As if she could oppose him. As if she had any chance against the greatest wizard of the Magical Alliance.

"Sit there Hermione," he ordered, pointing at the runes he had drawn earlier in the morning.

He had been so eager to finally unveil Dumbledore's last scheming that he had finally shortened his stay in Moscow. He had quickly executed the first prince of magical Russia Nikolay Bolkonsky, and had let know Vladimir Obolensky, his new puppet, that he would be back very soon to clarify what should be done with the Russian magical empire. Just before leaving, he had caught a glimpse of Alexandra Rostov glaring at him from afar, and her anger when he had smirked at her had been almost more satisfying than the execution of magical Russia's prince. Hence his good mood, making him enjoy the glimmer of defiance in Hermione's eyes, already anticipating her pointless refusal.

"No I won't," Hermione said, raising her chin, confirming his assumptions.

This resistance was as futile as the last jolts of dying animals devoured by their natural predators. Does and wolves. Antelopes and lions. Muggles and wizards.

"Then I'll just drag your body there after having tortured you for so long that you would have forgotten your own name" he said, raising his wand nonchalantly.

The girl turned pale and shivered, and under his insistent glare, she finally made her way to the runic circle and sat inside. Her expression was oscillating between fear and hatred, and Voldemort stared at her for a moment, reveling in her uneasiness. He noticed that she was making small compulsive movements with her right hand, which he quickly identified as the wand movements of the Protego charm. Was she hoping that once the protection was removed she could defend herself? Without a wand? Without ever having practiced magic?

Was she really thinking that she could easily use what she had learnt from the books he had given her to read? He had decided on a whim to lend her the books, wondering if she was really that eager to learn. And he had been surprised. She had devoured all the books he had sent her. From the first to the last page. Several times each. To his uttermost annoyance he had even had to ask the house-elf to force her to feed and to sleep. And she had practiced also, as her hand movements were quite precise. Not that it would be very useful to her...

Eventually Voldemort stepped forward, stopping just in front of the girl, and readied his wand. It has been several days since he had developed the spell to carry his magic inside the shield. It had to have enough subtlety to pass through between the magical waves of the protection, like a needle between two threads. Once his magic was inside, it should be enough to deviate even slightly the magic at work, so that the entire shield would be smashed to smithereens. Like Dumbledore when he had created this magical ward, he had based himself on ancient Uzbek texts to shape his spell, and the highest precision was required to make it work.

If he was sure that his spell will break the protection, he was not completely sure of its effects on the girl. There was a high probability that her magic would burst out after being released, and he had casted some protective charms in his study just in case. There was also a slight chance that the girl's body would not stand the sudden influx of magic. It would be disappointing - after all, what use could he have of this type of shield if it was killing its carrier afterwards? - but it will not diminish his satisfaction to have overcame once more the old coot's plans.

Concentrating, he raised his yew wand and made a first attempt without too much power.

"Ajoyib Sehrli Igna."

For a few seconds, he was able to distinctly feel the magic at work inside the shield, even managing to identify the two opposing currents. And then the sensation ended abruptly, as the spell had not managed to completely cross the protection. But now he knew what level of power he needed to infuse his spell with to break through the shield.

Lord Voldemort raised his wand again, a smile on his lips. This time, Dumbledore's protection would collapse.

"Ajoyib Sehrli Igna," he chanted a second time.

Voldemort felt the shield's magic again, and then his own charm crossed it. Slowly, but inexorably, it got inside. As it suddenly came into contact with the shield's magical core, a deafening crack echoed through the room. Voldemort was thrown a few meters away as a powerful wave of magic flooded the room, destroying the charms he had set up earlier to protect his study. In a split second the windows exploded, and the books and papers on his desk were blown away.

Voldemort stood up immediately, quickly casting a spell to protect his notes, but the girl's magic had already calmed down. She had moved too, and was now curled up in a corner of the room, her hands clasped around her, her eyes bulging. She was alive, but the magic that now ran through her seemed to disturb her to the highest degree. She took a few seconds to notice that he was pointing his wand at her.

"Oh no no no!" she said with panic.

Hermione did not need any explanation to understand that her shied had been shattered, and that any protection she might have had was finished. Completely terrorized, she jumped to the side to try to hide behind a couch, but a red ray of light hit her before she could protect herself and she sank into unconsciousness.

oOoOoOo

Voldemort moved closer to the girl's stunned body and stared at her thoughtfully. She looked quite peaceful lying on the floor, astonishingly young and innocent, and he noticed that the magic she had released had made her atrocious scars disappear. This calm contrasted singularly with the thoughts jostling in the Dark Lord's mind.

The annihilation of her protection only brought up more questions. The magic that had emerged was by far more powerful than what he had estimated, as evidenced by the current catastrophic state of his study. More impressive than what a lot of powerful grown-up wizards were capable of. Was it really the magical power of the girl? Or was it due to the impossibility for her magic to express itself in the last ten years?

"Magia Revelio," Voldemort casted, wanting to clarify the situation.

And when the results were returned by the spell Voldemort was startled. The Mudblood's magic was unquestionably powerful. The same level as what was expected from a mage. A result he had not seen in a long time. Voldemort let his magic play with the girl's one. The sensation was particularly pleasant. The magic of the wizards he saw every day was always dull compared to his, uninteresting. Totally insignificant even. And here, the magic of a mere Mudblood emanated this very appreciable parcel of gross power.

Her magic was not as powerful as his of course, but it still had the merit of intriguing him. While Voldemort's magic radiated power and strength like a Fiendfyre, the one of the girl felt more like a swirling breeze, light but misleading as it could turn into a hurricane at any moment.

Leaving Hermione's stunned body in the corner of the room; he retrieved from his desk the birth registers he had borrowed from the ministry. It took him only a moment to identify the new line that had just appeared.

"Hermione Jean Granger, Muggle-born, September 19th, 1979."

So it was confirmed. The shield's magic had been linked to the registers, and only the destruction of the protection could reveal the corresponding line in the register. But how did Dumbledore expected to found these Mudbloods after his potential downfall? Or had he condemned them to never be part of the magical world again? It did not seem like something the old fool would have done...

Thoughtfully, Voldemort's gaze rested on Hermione Granger's form, lying on the floor. What should he do with her? He did not really need her to continue his experiments. He had already found the exact chant to create anew the shield, and any other Mudblood could do the trick to test his hypotheses concerning the correlation between the shield presence and the magical aura growth. Yes, he could get rid of this irritating Mudblood immediately.

But some small part of him did not want to destroy such a powerful magical core. And slavery was not really an option. He was not sure that it would be possible to get anything productive from a girl who had not been conditioned to be a slave since birth, especially from such a stubborn girl. Oh, his Death Eaters would be glad to be able to torture her lengthy until she submitted or she until she died, but none of those who would have enjoyed it had deserved a reward those days.

Having no desire to deal with the Mudbloods case anymore today, Voldemort decided to let this issue rest until tomorrow. After all, had he not promised her two days' before her death?

oOoOoOo

Hermione woke with a start and sat up abruptly, panic running through her mind. She was in her bed, in her room, alone. She was not injured. Her relieved sigh was almost a sob. She was alive, undoubtedly alive, and the beating of her heart slowly calmed down. There was no doubt that her shield had fallen. The satisfied look the Dark Lord had had had been quite telling. What happened next was more confusing though. The windows had exploded and Hermione had felt, for the first time, flows of magic running through her.

She did not have, or rather did not have anymore, the feeling of being different. She tried to perform the movements of the few spells she had learnt, but nothing happened. She also tried to feel again the sensation that had overwhelmed her in the Dark Lord's study, but nothing came. She sighed in frustration. For a moment, she had had the impression of being magical, of having the power to do extraordinary things, but it had ended in a few seconds.

She rose with resignation and went to the bathroom to take a shower. Once in front of the mirror, she stilled and gasped. All her scars were gone. As if she had a new skin. Hermione sighed. It was not really good news that the scars had disappeared when she was anyway going to die soon. She took a shower, got dressed, and as she had nothing else to do to occupy her worried mind, continued the book she was reading earlier. However she was not really concentrated, fearing the return of the Dark Lord and her impending death.

Despite her anxieties, the afternoon and evening went quietly, without any visit except from Dory. But Hermione still had troubles relaxing. She felt like she was going to suffocate in those rooms, as if the walls and ceiling were insidiously becoming more present. She wondered if it was some sort of post-traumatic shock. After all, when the red ray of light of the Dark Lord had reached her, she had been certain she was going to die. And even now, she knew that there was no hope for her to remain alive very long.

The next day, Hermione had a painful headache and did not feel any less stressed. Her room was oppressing her even more than the day before, and she felt feverish. The following days, her discomfort only continued to grow. She was afraid she had become insane. Her hands also started to tingle unpleasantly. She had wondered if the phenomenon was due to magic, trying again and again some spells, but nothing ever worked to her utmost frustration.

The situation became particularly painful the day she began to distinctly feel pulsations coming from the walls and the furniture around her. She was now almost certain that it was magic she was feeling, but she could neither use it nor stop any of those unpleasant sensations. As the day went on, the pulsations became more and more oppressing, and Hermione finally felt as if she was starting to really run out of air.

She had taken refuge in the middle of the room, as far as possible from the walls and the furniture, and had brought her knees against her. As soon as she closed her eyes, the sensations grew louder and it felt as if the room was going to shrink all around her. As if she was going to be crushed by this magic. As if she was going to die here. She wondered if this was the particularly twisted way the Dark Lord had decided to finish her life.

"I refuse to die!" she shouted out loud.

The sound of her own voice in the otherwise silent room finally triggered a constructive reaction from her. She had to get out of here. She had to get out or she would irrevocably become insane. Hermione rushed into the living room, then to the door that led to the hallway. When she put her hands on the door, the strange magical pulsations invaded her with powerful waves. She tried to pull the door, but it did not move and just pulsated harder against her.

It was worse than anything she had felt so far, and Hermione nearly lost her footing. She tried to counter the pulsations, to move them away from her. Gathering up all her willpower, she suddenly managed to push back the pulsations, and heard a click.

Hermione was startled for a brief moment, before quickly grabbing the handle, opening the door, and rushing out. Once in the corridor, however, she felt the tingling of her hands and the pulsations of the walls resume again, and, completely stunned by all these magical waves, she staggered in the opposite direction of the Dark Lord's study, completely unware about how she was disturbing the castle's ancestral magic all around her.

oOoOoOo

In another wing of the castle, Voldemort was listening with discontent the nonsense Goyle Sr. was telling him to justify his incompetence, when he felt the castle's magic flail abnormally around him.

"Shut up," he snapped at Goyle.

He focused on the castle's magic, looking for the source of the disturbance. He quickly identified that the problem was coming from the corridor just in front of the Mudblood's room. He wondered if she had managed to blow up the door or the walls of her suite. He dismissed Goyle without a glance, and the Death Eater exited quickly, relieved that someone else will probably pay for the failure of his mission. As soon as Goyle was out of his study Voldemort silently Apparated away.

Barely arrived in the corridor, he quickly located the girl, who was stumbling in the other direction. He linked his magic to hers, and was surprised to see the Mudblood immediately turn over as if she had felt his magical aura.

Hermione was frozen to the spot. The Dark Lord stood few steps away from her, and for the first time she was able to feel his magic. And his magic was terrifying. It seemed to spring from him, powerful, threatening, and intoxicating in some ways. At its touch she had stopped breathing, the feeling of suffocation even more present than before. She was certain that she was going to literally drown in his magic.

In a glance Voldemort realized that Hermione's magic, unused in the recent days, was making the castle's magic throb around her, as if the two magics had started resonating. There was no doubt that, if he did not make sure that she channeled this unused magic as soon as possible, it will soon destroy something. As if he had nothing better to do than spending his time repairing the disasters caused by a Mudblood...

"Come here!" he ordered curtly.

She looked at him with a distraught expression, and instead took a step back. Her back hit a vase that wavered for a few seconds before falling from its pedestal and being smashed to pieces. The scene froze for a moment and Hermione stiffened with fright, her magic fluttering even more erratically around her. Annoyed, the Dark Lord got closer to her, grabbed her arm, and Apparated them in the training room of the castle, a huge empty room that served as a dueling ground, and was therefore strongly protected. They had barely arrived when Hermione's magic started resonating with the one of room.

Voldemort watched thoughtfully as the magic radiated all around the Mudblood, while it was obviously more and more difficult for her to remain standing. From a scholarly point of view, it was quite interesting to observe the behavior of a magical aura inhibited for too long. The magical waves were completely disordered, raw, and the girl's body seemed to struggle not to be overtaken by this magic that was just waiting to break free. Another few minutes and she would certainly lose control.

With a smooth movement, Voldemort was just behind Hermione's back. He turned her towards the center of the room, and placed in her right hand his secondary magical wand.

As soon as her fingers touched the wood, Hermione felt a jolt in her body and a luminous white ray of light came out of the wand. It exploded in a deafening noise when it stroked the opposite wall, without causing it any damage. Not at all controlling what was happening, she looked bewildered as three more rays of light erupted from the wand. The tingling in her hands diminished drastically, as well as the pulsations of the walls. In fact, she was not even able anymore to feel them.

And then, she felt as if she was going to faint. She nearly fell backwards, but her back hit the Dark Lord's figure, as he was still standing behind her, and it snapped her out of her dizziness. She pulled away briskly from the Dark Lord's grasp, took a few steps back and pointed at him the wand she still held in her hand.

"What's happening with my magic?" she asked aggressively.

Contrary to what she might have thought – and hoped –, the Dark Lord did not seem in the least bothered by the fact that she was pointing a wand at him.

"It is no longer used to fuel your shield and it has difficulties to adapt," the Dark Lord replied calmly. "It may happen again, but over time it should stop."

Hermione looked at him with horror. She had felt like she was going to go insane before her magic escaped through the magical wand. She was all the more determined not to let him take the wand away from her.

The Dark Lord stepped forward and she took a step back while gripping the wand. During the past three months, she had continuously dreamed of getting her hands on a wand, she was not going to miss her chance now.

"Don't come closer!" she ordered, her voice less firm than she would have liked.

Voldemort looked at the girl in front of him, who was holding onto his second magical wand as if it could save her. In the past few days, whenever Hermione Granger's fate had come to his mind, he had promptly discarded it, failing to find a solution that satisfied him. This demonstration of accidental magic had just shown him that what had happened in his study was not an accident, and that the magical power of Hermione Granger was indeed not insignificant.

But that did not change the fact that she was holding a wand for the first time today. And now that her accidental magic eruption had been controlled, Voldemort doubted that she would be able to get out even some sparks from a wand that was not hers.

"And what do you plan to do my little Muggle?" he asked with a smirk. "Fight a duel against me?"

An icy chill ran down Hermione's back, and she tightened her grip on the wand she held, raising it slightly.

"And why not?" she answered defiantly.

She had quickly noticed that it was not the Dark Lord's white wand she was holding, and was not surprised when it suddenly appeared in her opponent's hand.

Voldemort looked at her with amusement. She was no longer protected by the old fool's ward, and he could now perfectly read the determination in her eyes. Her hopes to be able to cast spells with his second wand. Her hopes to be able to surprise him, Lord Voldemort, and to manage to escape. A small lesson in humility was undoubtedly needed.

"Very well," the Dark Lord said. "Then we shall bow to each other, Hermione."

A cruel smile had replaced his mocking expression and Hermione felt her hand start to shake slightly. She took another step back without bowing, a feeling of anguish slowly taking possession of her. The fact that he was so calm triggered all her alarms and she felt intrinsically that she had made a mistake in provoking him.

"Come, the niceties must be observed... bow, Hermione..."

Hermione stepped back again and shook her head. It did not seem a very good idea to her to leave the Dark Lord out of her eyes, even for the slightest moment. Especially when he had this lethal expression. Her fear was making perspiration appear on her right hand, and she had to master herself not to stupidly turn on her heels and run away.

" I said, _bow_ ," Voldemort said, raising his wand.

Before she could even react, Hermione felt her spine curve as though a huge, invisible hand was bending her ruthlessly forwards.

"Very good," Voldemort said with a satisfied smile.

And as he raised his wand, the pressure bearing down upon Hermione lifted too.

"And now – we duel."

But Hermione did not need his mocking remarks to know that she needed to act fast. The wand stretched out in front of her, she tried her first spell.

"Expelliarmus!" Hermione casted.

She had learnt by heart the wand movements and the incantation, but to her utmost dismay the spell just exploded in the open air as soon as it exited her wand. And then the Dark Lord's wand moved. Before she could even decide what to do, Hermione felt a sharp pain tearing her back, as if her skin had been suddenly deeply cut. She stumbled under the pain before recovering.

"Petrificus Totalus!" she said.

She managed this one better. She saw with satisfaction the spell coming out of her wand and moving at great speed towards the Dark Lord. He did not move, just raised an eyebrow, but the spell did not touch him. It crashed with a loud bang on his shield, which became visible for a mere second. Hermione did not even have the time to grieve before she felt the same tearing pain on her back, and she screamed.

She looked for a place to hide, but the huge room was desperately empty. In front of her, the Dark Lord gazed at her condescendingly. He took a step towards her, and Hermione's panic increased. She frantically tried to cast the Protego charm, but nothing happened.

"Protego! Protego, Protego!" she said frenetically while glancing at the Dark Lord who was strangely no longer approaching her.

Just as she was finally able to summon a glimmering protection around her, the Dark Lord moved his wand nonchalantly, and a third whiplash felt on her back, shattering her shield to pieces. It must have crossed the marks of the two previous ones, for the pain was this time far more intense, and without her being able to stop them, tears sprang from Hermione's eyes. Tears of pain and rage mixed together.

The Dark Lord was toying with her. He had given her just enough time to make a successful shield before proving her that it was useless. She had not been a threat to him at all. She never had had the slightest chance to win against him. Enraged, she tried to cast the Petrificus Totalus curse again.

The Dark Lord just took a step aside. The whiplash Hermione received in the back in repercussion made her fall on her knees screaming, and she let go of her wand. She tried to get up, but the Dark Lord's curse hit her violently two more times and she fell flat on the floor, unable to breath for few seconds.

"Really?" the Dark Lord said with irony. "Barely a few seconds and you already surrender?"

Hermione's rage gave her the strength to throw herself at the wand on the ground, but just before she could reach it, it flew into the Dark Lord's hands. Hermione glared at him with all the hate she can muster. She tried to straighten up, but the Dark Lord was already on her, and he nailed her to the ground with a spell. The pain that swept through her back as it impacted the ground made her cry in pain anew.

"You've lost Hermione," the Dark Lord said with an icy voice. "And after a quite poor performance I must say..."

"Go to hell," Hermione answered, desperately trying to break free from of the spell that kept her on the floor.

"Crucio," Voldemort casted almost lazily.

He had taken care to drastically lower the power of his spell, the Mudblood no longer being protected, but it was enough to have the satisfaction of seeing her screaming in pain for a few seconds. Then, with a smooth gesture, he sent her a Stupefy and the girl sank into unconsciousness.

He approached her, and for the second time this week looked with exasperation at the Mudblood at his feet. She had managed to bend his second wand to her will. An acacia wand, a wood that had the reputation of being particularly selective.

"Hermione Granger, what am I going to do with you..."

He still did not know if the Mudblood's magic was powerful per se, or if it constant use by the shield had enhanced it. He was going to retrieve two or three Mudblood slaves from the Carrow or the Lestrange and test the shield on them. Six months should allow him to know if there was any influence. And in the meantime, he was going to assess how far he could push the girl's power.

oOoOoOo

 **AN:** Thank you all for reading this chapter!


	10. Chapter 10

And here is the tenth chapter! (Out of 32).

Thanks to all reviewers, favorites, followers and readers. I hope you'll all enjoy this new chapter.

Have a nice day,

Perhentian

oOoOoOo

 **Chapter 10 - December 1998**

Hermione woke up with a start and straightened up briskly. Immediately she screamed in pain and curled up on herself. Her sudden movement had awakened a terrible pain in her back. Instantly, the memories came back to her and a deep anguish invaded her. She had fought a duel against the Dark Lord. And he had shown her that, even with a wand, she was absolutely no match for him.

The spells he had used, the movements he had made, his posture, none of that was indicated in the books she had read. He had not pronounced a single incantation, and in some cases there had not even been light rays. She did not even know where to begin to try to get on his level. And she did not have enough time anyway.

Carefully, Hermione straightened up. If she did not make sudden movements, her back did not seem to hurt her too much. Her fast-paced heartbeats were far more painful. Why was she not dead? What was he waiting for? Hermione stood up and draw closer to the window, trying to calm her anxiety.

It was dark outside, and a glance at the clock told her what she wanted to know. 4am. And she was pretty sure she would not be able to go back to sleep. Her life was in abeyance. For an undetermined period. She had just discovered that she was a witch, that she could do incredible things, and she would probably die in the coming days. She let her gaze linger for a moment on the park, dimly lit by the moon in its last quarter.

The quiet and serene landscape, very far from her current concerns, allowed Hermione to calm down enough to recover. Worrying will not get her anywhere. Slowly, not to revive the pain in her back, Hermione walked to the living room and approached the door leading to the corridor. She had managed to open it last time. She did not know how, but her magic had managed to open the door. However, when she put her hands on it, she felt absolutely nothing. There were no more pulsations or tingling in her hands. Nothing.

"Alohomora!" she enunciated distinctly.

But nothing happened. She struggled for a few minutes before capitulating. She was not able to master what she had done before. It had taken six days the last time for her magic to become unstable. She sighed. She would have preferred not to have to wait so long before trying again, this time to escape.

Hermione looked at the books that were carefully piled up on the living room table. Many spells were explained in them, but there was nothing on the subject that would have interested her the most. Magic itself. How to explain the sensations she had felt the days before? Why was she no longer able to feel them now? Was it possible to do magic without a wand? And if yes, how? She had no answer to these questions, and the only one that can perhaps give them was the man she wished she would not have any more contacts with.

She did not know what the Dark Lord was planning to do with her. Her shield had fallen, he had solved the riddle, and now she had nothing to interest him. The fact that she was a witch did not seem to have surprised him. He must have known that even before, so that was not what had saved her. And she knew that as soon as she was no longer of any use to him she will die. Hermione shuddered at this thought.

Until the sun rose, Hermione studied. She repeated the movements of the disarming charm, of the full body-bind curse and of the shield charm. Those were the easiest dueling spells she had found, and she needed to master them perfectly. How could she cast an effective Stupefy if she was not even able to manage an Expelliarmus?

She only pulled her head out of her revisions when the house-elf appeared next to her, with her breakfast.

"Dory brought Miss Hermione's breakfast," the little elf said.

"Thank you Dory," Hermione answered.

She glanced at the breakfast in front of her. Perhaps it was her last one?

"Get a grip on yourself Hermione!" she admonished herself aloud.

And she immerged herself in "10 defensive dueling techniques," absent-mindedly swallowing food at the elf's insistence. It was delicious, and Hermione noticed that she ate much better now as the Dark Lord's prisoner than when she still had a normal life. Then again it was obvious that the said Dark Lord had a great deal of money.

oOoOoOo

The day passed quietly. As the following two ones. Hermione did not emerge from the books. She needed to focus, and if she let her thoughts drift for the slightest moment she could not help but remember that her life expectancy was alarmingly short.

Almost every two hours Hermione had made several attempts to open the door. Neither the pulsations nor the tingling had resumed, but that did not stop her from trying. And after taking a look at the clock, indicating 4pm on Sunday, December 13th, Hermione rose from her seat.

"It's time to see if you'll finally agree to open," she said, glaring at the door.

She settled herself one meter from the door, her right hand stretched out in front of her as if she had a wand in it. It seemed to her that she was even able to feel the door humming slightly, but she did not know if it was just her imagination or if she was really feeling it. And anyway, she was not able to connect with it as she had managed the last time.

"Alohomo..."

Hermione broke off abruptly, frozen in mid-air. She may be unsure of her ability to feel the door's magic, but the magic that had just appeared behind her, she felt it perfectly. That chilling, intoxicating power could only mean one thing, and Hermione turned around slowly, her whole body tensing with apprehension.

The Dark Lord was comfortably seated in one of the armchairs, a satisfied smile on his lips, his red gaze fixed on her. Hermione looked back at him. Her heart had begun to beat painfully in her chest as soon as she had confirmed her suspicions, and she already felt her hands starting to shake.

"It's useless Hermione, you won't be able to open that door again," the Dark Lord said evenly.

"I was able to open it the last time," Hermione answered, a hint of defiance in her voice.

Before regretting both her sentence and her tone. Was she suicidal? Did she really wish to die right now? But in spite of her apprehensions, the Dark Lord remained calm.

"What you did few days ago was instinctive magic. Wandless magic is in all other cases largely out of the reach of most wizards."

"But you said it may happen again."

Her curiosity was definitely stronger than her survival instinct.

"If your magic is not used, it will surely have another outburst. But what will happen then is neither predictable nor controllable."

Hermione nodded mechanically. The Dark Lord looked far too calm, and she shifted uncomfortably. The calmer he was, the harder it was to anticipate his reactions, and she wondered what he was doing here. Had he come to murder her? Would he look straight into her eyes, lift his wand, and kill her? Was there a killing spell by the way?

"Avada Kedavra," the Dark Lord enunciated distinctly.

"Pardon me?" Hermione said.

Strangely, these two words were making her quite uncomfortable.

"There is a killing curse. Avada Kedavra. Six little syllables, a green ray of light and all is finished. It's an extremely elegant spell."

Extremely elegant? How could one say that a killing spell was extremely elegant? Then Hermione's terrified mind registered another piece of information.

"You can read my mind?" she asked, horrified.

The Dark Lord nodded, a smirk on his lips.

"How is that even possible?"

"Aren't the eyes supposed to be the windows of the soul?" the Dark Lord replied with amusement.

Hermione hastily looked away from him. Her thoughts were spinning in her head. If the Dark Lord could read her thoughts… that was not good for her. Not good at all.

"But... but that's not mentioned anywhere," Hermione stammered.

"Magic is far more diverse than you will ever be able to understand my little Muggle," the Dark Lord stated in a mocking voice. "This specific branch is called Legilimency and it's known by only few wizards, making it even more useful."

That was definitely not a good news. And since when had he been able to read her thoughts? From the beginning? No, it did not seem right. He would have known immediately for Fenrir Greyback's identity. Hermione glanced at him quickly. He was still comfortably seated in the armchair, his wand rolling lazily between his fingers. And suddenly it was clear that her shield should have also protected her against Legilimency.

"Isn't there a way to protect someone's mind, apart from my shield?" she asked.

"Of course there is. Occlumency. But as for Legilimency only few master this kind of magic."

"And how can it be learned?"

But of course the Dark Lord did not bother to answer her and instead rose elegantly from his seat. He approached her, and Hermione jittered uncomfortably. It was going to be far more difficult to avoid his spells if she could not look at him anymore. He stopped when he was only a few inches away from her. His black robes filled her vision and his magic was almost stifling at this distance. Hermione swallowed with apprehension and kept her eyes firmly fixed on the floor.

"Look at me," he ordered in a commanding tone.

Hermione hesitated for a brief moment before raising her head. Her eyes met the red ones of her vis-à-vis. At the same moment she felt the magic around her thicken, so present that Hermione was surprised she could still see-through the air around them. She shivered. The Dark Lord's magic was making her incredibly uncomfortable. Because it may be oppressive and dark, but in a way its power was fascinating.

A satisfied smile stretched on Lord Voldemort's lips. The magical sensibility of the Mudblood was no longer in doubt. It was even particularly well developed, enough for her to feel how he was modelling his own magic. And that fascination for power he could read in her eyes… Voldemort moved a step away.

"Have you read all the books I have sent you?" he asked.

Hermione looked suspiciously at the Dark Lord. What could he have read in her eyes? What were his motives? What the hell was he waiting for before killing her?

"Yes," she replied cautiously. "But... there are few things that I don't understand well."

"Things you don't understand?" the Dark Lord asked disdainfully. "These are children's books."

"I understand the books very well," Hermione answered, somewhat offended. "What I don't understand is how magic works. What is the correlation between the wand movements, the incantation of a spell, and its final effects? How can a magical wand catalyze magic? How do you manage to manipulate your magic?"

Hermione still had dozens of pending questions but she preferred to stop there, holding her breath. The Dark Lord appeared to be in one of his good days, but that was not always the guarantee of not being subjected to an unpleasant spell.

Lord Voldemort looked thoughtfully at the girl. All these questions jostling in her head, both naive and relevant. Now that he could read her as an open book she amused him even more. Such a thirst for learning, and so much determination. This experience was going to be quite entertaining if anything else.

"Pure Magic and the Spells Architecture are two very specialized subjects. They are only taught at the Magical University nowadays," he replied.

"There are magical universities?"

Universities to learn magic. Hermione could only imagine how fascinating it could be to study there. Even better than Oxford.

"There is only one, in St. Petersburg. The wizards who attend the Magical University all hope to become worthy enough to be granted the title of mage. But only few succeed."

Mage. That was a new notion for Hermione. Even more appealing.

"Are you a mage?" she asked.

Then she bit her tongue as his expression was now exasperated. Why did she always have to talk before thinking? What was wrong with her?

"Of course I'm a mage my little Muggle."

His voice had become cold and menacing. And if Hermione did not know exactly what was behind this mage title, she had had long ago the intuition that the Dark Lord was not a wizard like any other. She had always felt that he was much more dangerous. She forced herself not to back down when he approached her. He held out his arm elegantly, as if he was inviting her to take it and Hermione gave him a surprised look before quickly looking away.

"Don't make me wait Hermione," the Dark Lord said in a dangerous voice.

Questions jostled in her head. Was he really inviting her to take his arm? Why? What was going to happen? What would he do to her? But Hermione knew that question time was over. She reluctantly grabbed his arm, and she immediately felt the now-familiar sensation of Apparition.

She opened her eyes as soon as she felt the floor again, and was surprised to recognize the room where she had fought her duel against the Dark Lord. He quickly removed his arm and turned to face her. She looked at him apprehensively and her eyes widened when she saw him hold out his second wand.

"Ready for another try?" he asked.

Hermione stood frozen for a moment, before extending slowly her arm towards the wand. She stopped her fingers just before touching it, casting a questioning glance at the Dark Lord. But he did not withdraw his hand as she had feared, and she closed her fingers around the end of the wand.

She felt the wand's magic throb slightly under her fingers, and she aimed it at the Dark Lord, still a little uncertain. Did he really want her to fight against him again? Why? The pain she was still feeling in her back when she moved too briskly reminded her only too well that she was no match for him. But she was going to seize this opportunity to duel. After all, she desperately needed practice.

Voldemort looked at the girl, smiling sarcastically at her suspicious expression. She was not stupid; she knew that she would not be able to harm him. She even knew that this new duel would only bring her pain. But she wanted to learn. Regardless of the price. With a mocking gesture, he invited her to start.

"Expelliarmus!" the girl said immediately.

This time, the spell was properly casted; she had managed to correct the wrist movement she was doing too abruptly the last time. But the spell crashed on his shield, accentuating his smile. She was still so far from mastering her own magical power.

"That's all you managed to learn?" he said disdainfully.

Hermione Granger outrage was clearly visible on her face. How would she have evolved if Dumbledore had not hidden her? He could hardly see her as an obedient slave. She would have ended up trying to escape, failing miserably, but trying again regardless, until finally being killed. Anyway, he would kill her when she will start to annoy him. Nonchalantly, he sent a spell to her. She dodged it, throwing herself to the side, wincing at the pain.

"Stupefy!" she replied.

Needless to say, only a few sparks came out of her wand. A 6th grade spell was probably a bit too much for her. Sure, her magic was more developed than the one of a teenager, but spells still required some practice. With a flick of his wand, he sent a cutting spell at her legs. It hit the mark, of course, and the girl collapsed inelegantly on the floor.

Hermione swore in her head. She hated being made fun of. Everyone had always made fun of her in school. Know-it-all. Bookworm. She had heard dozens of insults. But the way the Dark Lord dismissed her attacks was far more humiliating. She felt completely helpless in front of him and she hated that.

"Perhaps you should protect yourself between your unimpressive attempts," the Dark Lord said mockingly.

Hermione got up instantly, relegating the pain to a corner of her head, and at the same time casted the shield charm. She felt the magic surround her just in time as a new spell was already on her. But her joy to have conjured the shield was short lived as the Dark Lord's spell broke through it and sent her flying backwards a few feet. And then she crashed to the floor and let out a muffled scream.

"Not powerful enough. Try again," ordered the Dark Lord's cold voice.

Hermione stood up with a grimace. She glared at the Dark Lord, a few steps away from her. He held his wand nonchalantly, a smirk on his lips.

"Protego!" Hermione casted quickly.

She saw with great satisfaction that her spell seemed more powerful than before. But the smile on the Dark Lord's face had grown and she understood even before his spell reached her that it was far from enough. And her painful flight a few seconds later did not surprised her.

"A spell's power is not a matter of wand movements' abruptness, nor is it linked to the strength of your incantation as you seem to believe. It is the determination you instill in your spell when you cast it that makes all the difference. Let me show you. Expulso."

He had barely whispered the incantation, but Hermione had immediately jumped to the side. She knew there was no way her weak Protego could stand against the Dark Lord's power. And sure enough she soon saw with some kind of morbid fascination the curse crash on the wall behind her. The entire room shook under the impact, but remained intact. And Hermione suspected that it was not even the maximum he could do, that he may be able to cast far more powerful spells.

"Far more powerful than what you could even dream up my little Muggle."

Hermione swore and looked away. She had no desire to share her thoughts with him.

"Your shield now," he added impatiently.

She had barely raised her wand when she was hit by another expulsion spell; fortunately far less powerful than the one he had previously casted. It was painful, but at least she was in one piece.

"You're not fast enough Hermione. You could at least pretend to try... after all any teenage wizard can do that..."

Now she was in one _angry_ piece. She got up quickly despite her aching body and cast a hateful glance at the Dark Lord. She could do it. She was going to master it! She was going to prove to him that she was able to use magic.

"Protego!" she threw.

But she found herself again flying through the air to the other side of the room. And her scream was more enraged than painful. She was on her feet even before the Dark Lord could utter another one of his petty remarks. She madly wanted to wipe that smile off his face. To prove that she could do it. And there it was, magic pulsing under her fingers. Her anger had awakened her magic, when all her exercises had not been able to. When the Dark Lord lazily performed the wand movements of the expulsion spell she simultaneously made those of the shield charm, her magic flowing smoothly into her wand.

"Protego," she whispered.

And she felt the power of her shield surrounding her. When the Dark Lord's spell hit it, the shield shivered, absorbed the curse, and vanished just afterwards. Astonished, she looked at the Dark Lord, half ready to receive a Cruciatus.

Voldemort kept his face impassive, but he was satisfied. He had not been mistaken about the Mudblood's magical abilities. If he continued to teach her, within a few months she would catch up with the level of most wizards of her age. And in June, when he would have the confirmation that it was Dumbledore's ward that had given so much power to her dirty blood, he would kill her.

"That's better," he commented. "Now that you know how to use a wand, we can resume our duel."

Hermione's contentment stopped abruptly. She was no longer allowed to make mistakes now. The Dark Lord was no longer playing. Hermione raised her wand, and everything went desperately fast. She had barely launched her Expelliarmus that she was hit by a powerful expulsion spell.

Instead of just taking off slightly from the ground like before, she was violently thrown on the wall behind her. The pain was so great that she let go of her wand and slumped on the floor. As soon as she realized this, she tried to straighten up to get her wand back, but it was already in the hands of the Dark Lord, who was standing only few feet away, looking down at her.

"You've lost Hermione!" he said, shaking his head disapprovingly. "Dory will take you back to your room. I hope you'll duel better the next time, or I'll be forced to kill you."

He seemed to revel for a moment in the fear that his words had induced, before disappearing on the spot without a sound. Hermione had the impression that his red pupils had remained printed in the air for a moment after he had left, and she had to shake herself up to move again.

When Dory arrived, Hermione had gotten up, and she took the little elf's hand without waiting. Dory Apparated her back to the living room of her suite. She immediately noticed the three thick volumes on one of the tables. She approached it with curiosity. The first two were books in excellent condition, and seemed rather new. She read the titles with delight: "Introduction to Pure Magic" and "Pure Magic: theoretical possibilities". She opened the second one and flipped through it quickly. It surely was not children's books this time.

She put the book down, and her gaze focused on the third volume. It looked like an old grimoire, and Hermione was afraid to see it crumble in her hands if she touched it. Nothing was written on it and she cautiously lifted the front cover. As she opened it, a title appeared in golden letters on the first page. "Ptolemy's Methodology ". Just underneath a paper was folded in half, and Hermione opened it quickly. It was a small note, written in an elegant handwriting:

" _Chapter's 7 exercises should be practiced every day to achieve a satisfactory result. LV_ "

LV? Was that the Dark Lord's initials? Hermione shrugged and put the note next to the book. She hesitated for a moment to go take a shower, her duel against the Dark Lord having drained her, but her curiosity was stronger and she finally sat down to start reading these new books.

oOoOoOo

The next three weeks, Hermione often saw the Dark Lord. Three to four times a week he appeared unannounced in her room, inviting her to follow him, and he always took her to the dueling room. His lessons were brutal, and they always ended with Hermione so much in pain that she was no longer being able to stand.

But in those few weeks she had learned a lot. The Dark Lord had supplied her with far more books than she could read, and she immersed herself resolutely into them as soon as she was not with him. She now knew the formulas and wand movements of a large number of spells, even if there were only few of them that she could execute properly. It was very frustrating to be unable to exercise outside of the duels, as she almost never managed the new spells she wanted to cast on the first try. And the Dark Lord's scorn was not helping.

However, despite the pain and the mocking, Hermione eagerly awaited each lesson. For the Dark Lord gave her indications which were not even described in the books she read. And they were usually particularly relevant.

On Wednesday, December 31st, Hermione woke up in a gloomy mood. It had now been more than four months since she had been taken from home. More than four months that she had seen neither her family, nor her friends. She was probably dead for everyone. She hoped that her parents could live with that. Just to imagine them wandering alone around the house during this holiday season brought tears to her eyes.

Leaning on the window frame, she refocused on the four months she had spent. The first weeks had been the most frightful, when she did not even understand what was happening to her, and when the Dark Lord had tortured her quite extensively. She had lived in a cell. She had turned 19 years old alone. Although, knowing who was leaving in the castle, it may still have been the best option.

Then there was the incident with Fenrir Greyback. She had not seen the man again, and she was very glad of it. Since then, her very unstable situation had been slightly better. She lived comfortably. She was learning magic. She was beginning to better read the Dark Lord. The moments when he was in a fool mood, not to be upset, and the moments when she could afford to ask some questions. He really seemed to be an erudite wizard, and his explanations were always crystal clear.

Outside of the castle, the ground was covered with a thick blanket of snow, drawing the perfect scenery for the New Year's Eve, and Hermione felt desperately lonely. She had spent Christmas alone. She had quickly seen the Dark Lord on the 26th, but he had been in such a foul mood that she had been afraid he would throw her an Avada Kedavra out of pure rage when he had read in her mind that she was wondering how bad his Christmas gifts must have been for him to be so enraged.

His mood was still quite bad the next days, and he had scornfully told her the day before that there would be a sumptuous New Year's Eve party in the castle, where the scums like her were not welcomed.

This solitary eve perfectly reflected the loneliness of the recent months, and when time finally reached midnight, Hermione make the wish that the year 1999 will allow her to flee out of here.

oOoOoOo

 **AN:** Thank you all for reading this chapter! As always, reviews are most welcomed :)


	11. Chapter 11

Hello,

As usual, a big thank you to everyone who follow / fav / review / read this story.

Here is a new chapter for you. I hope you'll like it!

Have a nice day,

Perhentian

oOoOoOo

 **Chapter 11 - January - March 1999**

"Abrupto," Voldemort casted nonchalantly.

The curse hit Hermione despite the shield she had hastily put up. She had just enough time to replicate with a full body-bind curse before hitting the ground and screaming in pain. Voldemort deflected the spell with a lazy gesture and looked at the girl in front of him, as she was trying to recover. She had learned quickly, very quickly.

The more she progressed, the more she was committed to learn. He could read in her eyes that she knew how long and painful it would be, but it only made her more determined to succeed. And he knew that even if she hated him fiercely, she eagerly awaited his lessons.

Between the books she devoured, the advices he gave her, and her assiduous practice of Ptolemy's methodology, her magical knowledge was developing at a very appreciable speed. And her potential kept surprising Voldemort. In the course of his life he had shared his knowledge sparingly. A few bits to make his Death Eaters dream about some superior magic, without revealing any of his secrets. Lucius, Severus and Tyler had benefited from his benevolence more than the others, but only Bellatrix could really claim to have been trained by her Lord.

The young Black had long held his attention with her strong and powerful magic, and by her thirst to learn anything her master deemed relevant. Especially if it was the dark arts. Her creativity was her forte, and if he ever needed to sacrifice all his Death Eaters, Bellatrix would be the one Voldemort would sacrifice the last, although without hesitation.

But even with Bellatrix, Voldemort had only shared a meaningless amount of his knowledge. Few spells to satisfy her craving for power, and few spells to shape her into the perfect deadly weapon he needed at that time. And Bellatrix had never dared to ask her master to teach her more than he wanted, all his decisions acting as a law for her.

Hermione was still a long way from getting close to his Death Eaters' level, but her thirst for learning was far more interesting. She was not content to learn how to cast a spell; she wanted to understand all magic's underlying mechanisms. She was fascinated by magic itself, and Voldemort knew it was that knowledge that really made the difference.

And since Voldemort knew he was going to kill the Mudblood in June anyway, if he was not tired of her sooner, he from time to time taught her few notions of pure magic that she eagerly registered. The assurance that her life was ephemeral granted Hermione Granger more freedom than Lord Voldemort had ever given anyone.

"Confringo!" Hermione, who had finally gotten up, casted.

Again, Voldemort deflected the spell with a quick wand movement. If the girl's spells power was beginning to be correct, there was still something beyond practice that was restricting her. Voldemort gestured for Hermione to stop, and the girl looked at him suspiciously as he approached.

"Tomorrow we'll buy you a wand," he announced.

"Is this one not suitable enough?" the girl asked with surprise.

"Each wand chooses its wizard. If it is possible to use others' wands, it is usually less effective. The wand you are currently using is suited to my magic, not yours. I'll take you to Ollivander's shop tomorrow morning."

"There are shops selling wands? There are magical shops?"

Voldemort could see Hermione's eyes light up. So much innocence was still there. He had not shown the same awe when he had himself discovered the magical world, and he had been eleven at that time. But even then he had been acutely aware of his own superiority.

"Yes Hermione, in a few streets here and there, reserved for wizards only."

She frowned, as always when she was deep in her thoughts. And it did not take long for him to read what she was considering. In the blink of an eye he was on her, and slammed her violently against one of the walls. His hand in her hair, he yanked her head so she was looking straight into his eyes, and her frightened expression did not appease him in the least.

"I do not suggest you to even think about escaping," he said coldly.

"No, no, I wasn't..." Hermione stammered.

"Don't lie to me Hermione. I always know when people lie to me."

Hermione felt utterly panicked. The Dark Lord's grip on her hair was particularly painful, the wall behind her back was forcing the proximity between her and his chilling presence, and the fluctuation of his magic left no doubt about his anger. And as every time he was so close to her, Hermione felt like choking to death out of fright. His proximity reminded her of how lethal his power was, and how her life was hanging by a thread, one she could not even see or act upon. Stuck between the wall and the Dark Lord, she was just a trapped prey.

"There won't be any opportunity for you to escape Hermione. The place where we will go is fully under my control, and no one, no one will oppose me to help you. Am I clear?"

His voice was particularly threatening and Hermione had to muster her courage to answer him.

"Yes," she said in a strangled voice.

The Dark Lord released the pressure on her hair and Hermione peeled off the wall. She began to breathe a little more normally as he walked away, but she could still feel the tension in his magic and she remained motionless and silent until he gestured to her to come closer. It was obviously the end of her lesson for today, and Hermione was both relieved and disappointed.

oOoOoOo

The next morning Hermione woke up well before the sun rose. She had had a lot of trouble falling asleep the day before due to her eagerness, and when she opened her eyes at 7am, she immediately knew that she would not be able to go back to sleep . Firstly, she was going to be outside for the first time in months. And secondly, she was going to get a magical wand. Her own magical wand. She felt like a little child on Christmas day.

For three hours she flipped through the different books she had at her disposal, but she could not concentrate enough to learn anything useful.

When Dory appeared right in front of her in the middle of the morning, Hermione looked at the elf in surprise. Dory had always only brought her her meals, nothing else, and she certainly was not there to announce the Dark Lord's imminent arrival, as his highness always appeared whenever it pleased him without any warning.

"Good morning Dory," Hermione greeted.

"Dory comes to help Miss Hermione get ready," the elf replied.

"Thanks, Dory, but I'm already ready," Hermione answered.

The elf looked at her with astonishment before frantically nodding from right to left.

"No, no, Miss Hermione is not ready to go outside. Dory will help Miss Hermione."

Hermione let herself get carried away by Dory, who forced her to take a shower for the second time in few hours. Then she handed her a dress she was holding in her little hands. Sea green, fitted at the waist, slightly low-cut, with flared sleeves. Even for Hermione and her poor knowledge of clothing it was obvious that it was rich silk, and she ran her fingers over the smooth fabric in astonishment.

Once she was dressed, Dory started to work on her makeup and her hair, while Hermione felt more and more confused. The last time she had been dressed so well was for the wedding of one of her aunts the year before.

"Now Miss Hermione is ready to go with the master," the elf announced with a sprinkle of satisfaction in the voice she did not often have.

Hermione turned slowly and met her reflection in the mirror. She had already put on makeup and combed before, in her old life, but it had nothing to do with the professionalism of her current appearance. Her skin looked perfect, her brown eyes were highlighted, and her falsely loose bun cleared her neck elegantly. As for her dress, it felt as if she could walk in any royal wedding without being out of place.

And surely she started panicking. Where did the Dark Lord intend to take her with such attire? She had noticed that he was always dressed with unparalleled refinement, regardless of the time of day. Was all this only to be worth standing by his side in this wand shop? Was she going to have to do something special to get her wand? Would she have to perform spells? Was she going to embarrass herself because she was not even able to perform them all correctly?

Her nervousness overeating her, Hermione walked out of the bathroom and began pacing in her living room. Dory had no idea when the Dark Lord was coming, and Hermione had never really supported waiting.

When the Dark Lord finally deigned to grace her with his presence, she felt him materialize before seeing him. She scrambled up from the chair where she had finally sat down and looked at him anxiously, her heart tight in her chest. He wore over his elegant robes a cloak so black that it seemed to absorb the light around him.

He stared at her for a moment, his face not reflecting any emotion, before giving her a second cloak, just as black. Her legs slightly shaking, Hermione walked over to him and carefully grabbed the cloak. She passed it over her dress, her gestures unsure as the felt the weight of the Dark Lord's glare on her. She was dressed well enough to meet the Queen of England, but she was sure that her companion was the most important person she would encounter today. How powerful was that damn Dark Lord?

"I'll expect the strictest obedience from you Hermione," the Dark Lord said in a cold tone. "You will pay with your life the slightest mistake. Is that clear?"

He had that deadly tone that was giving Hermione cold sweats and she nodded, her throat too tight to answer properly.

"Very good. Now pull up your hood. I don't want to hear any sound coming out of your mouth as long as we're in the street."

Hermione nodded again, and complied rapidly. The Dark Lord's gaze remained fixed on her for a few seconds, as if he was finally hesitating between really buying her a wand and simply killing her on the spot.

Finally, Voldemort slowly extended his arm to her, and Hermione came to stand next to him, her heart beating wildly. The excitement she felt since the announcement of the Dark Lord was at its peak. She would go outside, walk in the snow, and go somewhere that was not the Dark Lord's castle. And she could not help but have the insane hope that she would manage to escape. When she felt the onset of Apparition, she crossed her fingers for a miracle to happen.

The first thing Hermione felt was the cold wind on her face; even before feeling her feet touch the ground again. Then she opened her eyes, and only the reminder of the Dark Lord's threats prevented her from letting out an astonished exclamation. Hermione was in awe from the street in front of her. It was so strange that there was absolutely no doubt it was magical.

It was filled with wizards and witches dressed in winter robes and cloaks, and some even wore pointed hats. They came in and out of shops, one stranger than another, as if everything here was normal. And the shops… some of them were so lopsided that they seemed to be still standing only thanks to magic.

Then, the closest wizards noticed their presence and the mood changed drastically. Hermione saw the wizards' eyes fill with terror as they acknowledged the Dark Lord. The conversations suddenly stopped and the nearest wizards retreated several steps before bowing deeply.

Hermione's breathing was suddenly caught into her throat. The whole street was gradually bowing in front of the Dark Lord. The whole street. It was one thing to see the people working for him bow, and again, only because she had become used to it, but it was much more disturbing to see the fear in the eyes of each one of the wizards in this crowd.

Panic overwhelmed Hermione. Now she knew that the Dark Lord had not lied to her about his power. The place _was_ under his control. And sure enough, no one would help her. They seemed all so afraid of him. And they were wizards…

Paying absolutely no attention to his surroundings, the Dark Lord turned to Hermione, a smirk on his lips, as if he suspected what she was thinking without even reading it in her eyes.

"Shall we?" he said.

His tone was commanding, and Hermione immediately followed him. As they advanced, the wizards bowed in their wake, waiting until they were almost out of sight to straighten up. Hermione's discomfort only grew. It was like being in a bad movie about some kind of tyrant, and she was relieved when they finally enterer a small, dark-looking shop. So relieved that she did not even notice the famous gold letters above the door: "Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 BC."

"My Lord," all wizards in the shop murmured, bowing briskly.

"You have 10 seconds to get out of here," the Dark Lord said.

All the customers rushed to the exit, most of them even dropping their bags to move faster. An icy chill ran through Hermione's body as she realized once again the true terror the Dark Lord inspired and her heart sank. Only when everyone else was out did she notice an old wizard behind the counter who had also bowed.

"What can I do for you my Lord?" he asked in an obsequious voice.

"My friend needs one of your wands," the Dark Lord said, pointing to Hermione.

She felt a glimpse of the Dark Lord's magic and her hood went down. The salesman stared at her for an instant with an unreadable expression before searching for something behind him. Gradually recovering from what she had witnessed the past minutes, Hermione noticed that she barely felt the other wizard's aura, just as she had felt nearly nothing from the wizards in the street.

"Please come nearer Miss, I'll need to do some measurements."

Hermione came slightly closer, and a magically animated tape measure hurried around her, measuring all kind of strange things, like the gap between her eyes or the size of her fingers. The tension in the room was palpable and Hermione had an acute awareness of the Dark Lord's magic filling the place, twirling impatiently.

"Let's see," the old man said when the tape measure finished. "Try this Miss. Acacia wood, unicorn hair, 10½", rather rigid. Excellent for charms."

Voldemort saw Hermione cast a questioning glance at him, and he gestured to her to take the wand. She complied, but briskly removed her hand before touching it. The Dark Lord looked disdainfully at the wand maker. It was obvious that unicorn hair could not cope with Hermione's magic.

"No, no, no," Ollivander said, shaking his head. "It's completely wrong. Try this one. Yew wood, dragon heartstring, 8½", rather bendy. Powerful without a doubt."

Voldemort absent-mindedly tightened his hold on his wand. Yew wands settled only with exceptional magic. It could surely work for the Mudblood too. But once again the girl removed her hand before even touching the wand.

"All right, let's continue," Ollivander said. "Try this one, vine wood, dragon heartstring, 10¾", supple. Temperamental, but very precise."

Voldemort attention was immediately on the wand. The combination was original, but the vine could certainly be suitable for the girl. It would bring in precision, where the dragon heartstring would bring in power.

Hermione extended her hand again and this time the wand jumped in. She suddenly felt like she had never felt so complete before. As if she had just discovered a new limp she had always been missing. A smile lit up her face as her wand filled the shop with colorful sparkles.

"Perfect," the Dark Lord said.

His voice abruptly interrupted Hermione's satisfaction. With an elegant gesture he held out his arm to her, and Hermione wondered if he would simply leave without paying. But she froze when she saw that he was pointing his white wand at the wand maker.

"My Lord?" Ollivander asked in a shaky voice.

"Obliviate," the Dark Lord casted with a flick of his wand.

They disappeared as a white light illuminated the shop.

oOoOoOo

As soon as she felt a tangible ground under her feet again, back in her living room, Hermione let go of the Dark Lord's arm and stepped back a few steps. Her posture was defensive as the Dark Lord looked at her with an amused expression. It only accentuated the erratic beatings of her heart.

"Why does everyone bow on your way?" she asked. "Who are you?"

She had accentuated each of the last three words. She still could not believe that all the wizards had bowed in front of the Dark Lord. She knew all too well that the man was terrifying. But to have an entire crowd bow to him?

"Who do you think I am?" he replied with a smirk.

Hermione looked at him apprehensively. She did not really know. Or rather, she did not really know what was the extent of his power. Lord of a community of wizards? King of the United Kingdom wizarding world? In any case the Dark Lord's stranglehold on the wizards was frightening. And the wider his influence, the lesser her chances to escape.

"I don't know," she finally answered. "But you are dangerous."

"Yes, Hermione, I am dangerous. Very dangerous. Now, give me your wand."

His voice was chilling, and Hermione felt all her remaining hopes to get out of this castle shatter. Nobody would ever help her. She took another step back and pointed her new wand at the Dark Lord.

"What do you think you're doing my little Muggle?" the Dark Lord asked in a scornful tone. "You have never been able to disarm me, not even once..."

Hermione did not lower her wand. Her hand was shaking, and she was terrified by what she was doing. But she needed to escape. This wizarding world, bowing to the Dark Lord, was horrific. Torture, kidnappings, it seems like they were still living in the Dark Ages.

"Let me go," she asked.

Her voice was firm despite the trembling apprehension of her whole body. But the Dark Lord's cruel smile made her shiver.

"Tsk, tsk, Hermione, you would not want to terrify your parents I'm sure."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

This time her voice had shaken. In the few seconds he took to answer she anxiously imagined all the worst scenarios.

"I have been very kind to your family. I saved them weeks of futile research by having your dead body delivered to your parents' doorstep a few months ago."

Hermione froze. Had he seriously done that? She pictured her parents' reaction when they would have found her corpse while leaving for work. Their shocked faces. Their despair. And anger boiled inside her. How had he dared to do that to her parents?

"For the last time Hermione, give me your wand."

"Incendio!" Hermione casted.

It was not the Dark Lord she had targeted, but the whole castle around her, determined to burn it down to ashes. Violent flames suddenly surrounded her, so close and so dense. Completely terrified by the uncontrolled cataclysm coming out of her wand Hermione immediately stopped it, not totally sure that it would not set herself on fire at the same time.

Even before the flames finally disappeared, Hermione felt her wand slip out of her hands. Dazed, she looked around, and was surprised to notice that absolutely nothing had burned. The Dark Lord glare, however, was blazing with anger. But she did not care. His words about her parents were still vivid in her mind and, still far too angered; she flung herself at him hoping to make him suffer, even if it was only with her bare hands.

"Crucio," Voldemort casted quickly.

The spell hit the girl in the chest, and she collapsed onto the floor screaming. He had obviously been too lenient with her lately. And he had only barely managed to protect the room on time from the fire. It was unacceptable.

Three long Cruciatus were needed to have her beg for mercy with enough conviction to satisfy Lord Voldemort.

"Please, please stop," she begged.

"Where do you belong Hermione?"

"Beneath you. Please. Please."

"I won't tolerate any more tantrum from you Hermione, is that clear?"

"Yes, yes. Please, I beg you."

Tears were streaming down her face, and to ensure he was well understood he threw a last Cruciatus before Apparating, leaving her trashing on the floor of her living room.

oOoOoOo

And then everything went back to normal, all days similar to each other. Several weeks passed and soon it was the beginning of March. Even if Hermione now had her own wand, she was only able to use it when she was training with the Dark Lord. But it was still better to practice with her vine wand, her spells far more effective with it.

She had not yet managed to hit the Dark Lord with any of her spells, but he was now sometimes sidestepping her curses, and for Hermione it was already a small victory. For the more she learned magic, the more she understood how difficult it would be for her to match the Dark Lord skills.

And sure enough the Dark Lord managed to surprise her again when his shield, instead of absorbing her spell, reflected it back towards her face. She barely had time to put her own shied in place, narrowly avoiding slicing her own skin with her powerful cutting spell. It was supposed to be impossible. She had read an entire book about the different types of shields and none was able to send back the spells.

"Don't be so frustrated Hermione, the sirenean charm was not mentioned in your books," the Dark Lord said. "Too few wizards know about it."

"How am I supposed to breach your shield if my most powerful spell is reflected?" Hermione asked.

Everything the Dark Lord had taught her had always been through painful trials and errors situations, and she knew that he would have been even more delighted if she had not managed to avoid her own spell. He smirked at her annoyed tone.

"Unlike other shields, the sirenean charm feeds on your spell's power. It is still possible to shatter it by force, but your spell's force should be enormous. More than the one of the caster."

Hermione almost groaned. She would never be able to cast a curse more powerful than the Dark Lord's magic.

"But the sirenean charm has two weaknesses," the Dark Lord continued. "It should be actively maintained by its caster. If you manage to distract your opponent he may drop it inadvertently. And the sirenean charm will react quite badly if a Confundus charm is thrown at it: it will make the shield lose its vital magical coherence."

Hermione nodded briskly. As always his explanations were perfectly clear.

"And my shield?" she asked. "The one I had at the beginning. Can it be used in a duel?"

After all, its protection had been quite extensive, and it took several months for the Dark Lord to breach it.

"No it cannot. You need almost an hour to set it up, and have you already forgotten that it has deprived you of your magic?"

Voldemort did not disclose that he was currently working on adapting one of the three main charms of the shield to overcome the last issue.

"Let's go back to the sirenean charm," the Dark Lord ordered.

Hermione raised her wand and began her incantation when the doors of the room opened. A dark-haired man with a sinister face entered the room, his stern black robes twirling around him. He approached until he was only a few steps from the Dark Lord and knelt down. His magic was dry, incisive, and if it was not as powerful as the one of the Dark Lord, it still stood out from the magic of the other wizards Hermione had met few weeks ago in the magical street.

"I do hope you have a good reason to bother me Severus?" the Dark Lord asked in a cold voice.

"My Lord, it seems that the rebels have attacked several locations at the same time. Malfoy's, Lestrange's and Carrow's manors have been under attack."

The Dark Lord's magic sharpened around him, and Hermione immediately realized that he was absolutely furious.

"Details Severus," he ordered.

"Few minor injuries for the Carrow. But huge explosions were heard near the three manors. It will be impossible to hide the event this time."

The tension in the dueling room was now unbearable, and Hermione stepped back cautiously.

"Where is Tyler?"

"At the ministry, he's the one who asked me to warn you," Severus replied.

"Take care of Hermione," the Dark Lord dryly ordered before Apparating away.

oOoOoOo

Severus Snape and Hermione Granger looked at each other without moving. Neither of them had any idea who the other could be. And neither of them knew what to do.

Who was Severus? Hermione had already heard his name once, and she remembered that he had been the one to look after Bellatrix. Was he a magical doctor then? His magic was making her uncomfortable, and she diverted her gaze not to look straight at him.

Who was Hermione? Why was she in Lord Voldemort's dueling room? Where did she come from? Severus was pretty sure he had never met the girl. She had not attended Hogwarts, as he kept track of all the students in his school. And he had never heard of a Hermione in Death Eaters circles either.

Severus Snape was the first one to recover and decided to address the mistrustful girl.

"Miss, would you kindly tell me how I am supposed to take care of you?" he said in a sweet voice that had terrorized generations of students.

It did not destabilize the girl in the least.

"The Dark Lord was teaching me how to breach different types of shields sir," she answered. "We were discussing the sirenean charm before you arrived."

Severus Snape's remained impassive. Only a raised eyebrow was giving away his surprise. The Dark Lord had taken a new apprentice? And the sirenean charm? Only few amongst the Death Eaters new about it. Bellatrix, Lucius, Tyler, and himself. The inner circle.

Hermione was wondering if this wizard, she had any chance to defeat him, and take the opportunity to run away. If she could hit him with a Stupefy, she could get out of the dueling room and try her luck in the corridors of the castle until she found a way out.

"Has the Dark Lord explained you the weaknesses of the sirenean charm?" Severus Snape cautiously asked.

"Ridiculously powerful spells, distraction, and the Confundus charm," Hermione summarized.

Severus Snape nodded briskly. Then Hermione raised her wand, and he realized that she was waiting for him to cast the sirenean charm. Was the Dark Lord really making her practice spells with him? It was unusual, to say the least. He did comply however, and casted the sirenean charm. A split second later Hermione's Confundus charm forcefully breached his shied. He nearly let himself be overwhelmed by the brute power of the spell, but quickly got rid of it, and also easily deflected the Stupefy that had followed. He would not have bet that the frail girl in front of him could have such powerful magic.

He lowered his wand and ordered the girl to do the same, which she did reluctantly. What was he supposed to do now? Why on earth was he babysitting her when he had much more urgent problems to deal with, starting with this incident with the rebels?

"Why is the Confundus spell so effective against the sirenean charm, sir?" Hermione asked him.

"It makes it lose its magical coherence," Severus snapped.

"I know. But why does it make it lose its magical coherence?"

"The sirenean charm is part of the so-called mandatory stability spells, where the spells accuracy is far more important than their power. But as a result, if another magic interfere with it, it will shatter its accuracy and stop the spell," he tried to explain simply.

"Oh," the girl commented. "Is this an application of Apophis' law then?"

Severus Snape only barely managed to remain impassive. He had never been to the Magical University, specializing as soon as he graduated from Hogwarts in the subtle science of potion-making. But he still had some basic notions of Pure Magic, as any respectable wizard had to. And Apophis' law was not for the beginners.

"Indeed," he commented soberly.

Both looked suspiciously at the other one. Severus Snape had no idea what to do with this oddity, while Hermione Granger was trying to assess her chances to win a duel against the man. She had put all her power into the Stupefy she had sent previously, and it had been deflected. But it had been only a test, and she had finally decided to give it another try when the wizard in front of her briskly put his right hand on his left arm, as if it was suddenly burning him.

"Pardon me Miss, but the Dark Lord is calling me."

He greeted her curtly and Apparated away. Hermione blinked several times in shock. She was alone. And she still had her wand. She recovered quickly, and approached the doors of the dueling room.

"Alohomora."

The doors clicked and she cautiously stepped into the hallway. She could not believe how lucky she was. She had waited so long for this opportunity.

She did not really know where to go, having always been apparated in the dueling room, and she finally decided to turn to the right. She walked carefully through the different corridors without meeting anyone. The castle was truly huge. She went down one floor, and after another bifurcation finally heard several voices.

She approached quietly, and glanced into the room from which the voices were coming. It was a large living room, with strangely many fireplaces and several wizards pacing nervously in front of them.

"I want a team in the Ministry of Magic, another one in Hogsmeade, a third one in Diagon Alley. Now move, all of you!"

An indistinct hubbub followed as the wizards approached the fireplaces and disappeared one by one inside them. As soon as they were all gone, Hermione entered the room and looked at the different fireplaces. The fire was still green inside.

Long ago, Tyler Greengrass had made her travel this way, and it seemed that stating her destination may be sufficient to have it working. All she needed to do was to choose a destination. Ministry of Magic? Probably not a good idea. Hogsmeade? She was not even sure she had heard the name properly. Only Diagon Alley was remaining then, and Hermione resolutely moved forward.

"Diagon Alley!" she enunciated.

And green flames surrounded her.

oOoOoOo

 **AN:** And here is the end of the 1st arc of the story. I hope you liked it.


	12. Chapter 12

Hello,

Thanks a lot for all the reviews, favs, and followers for the last chapter!

Here is a new chapter for you.

Have a nice day,

Perhentian

oOoOoOo

 **Chapter 12 - March 1999**

"Hurry up!"

"Come closer!"

"Get out of the way!"

"Don't you dare push me you fool!"

The frenetic voices reached Hermione even before her feet touched the ground. Panic and fright were oozing from the different screams, but the only thing Hermione was feeling was relief. She had managed to travel through fire. She was alive.

"Yes!" she murmured, opening her eyes.

She was outside, in the middle of a crowded street. Quickly, she stepped out of the fireplace - she had no idea how much time she had before the fire would start burning her - and took refuge in the darkest corner she could find. With a quick wand motion, she conjured a light cloak she wrapped around her, before pulling the hood over her face, and securing its position with another spell. Now she was ready to face the outside world.

The street looked strangely like the one she had been to when the Dark Lord had bought – stolen – her a wand, but Hermione had no idea if she was somewhere else in the same street, or if all wizarding streets were alike. Many wizards and witches were crowded here, trying to gain access as fast as possible to the fireplaces, pushing each other in the process. Then, something exploded with a loud bang, and Hermione instinctively grabbed her wand tighter.

A group of wizards wearing identical robes rushed in the direction of the multiple explosions that were heard. Remaining alert, Hermione scanned the street around her but nothing seemed to have been destroyed. The explosions were probably far away. The agitation of the passers-by, however, was increasing around the fireplaces, and Hermione felt particularly uncomfortable, without knowing whether it was due to the compact crowd around her, or to the anguish of her escaping attempt.

She looked at the wizards in uniform, hesitating. She had always respected authority figures, but if she was indeed in the same street as the last time, it was under the Dark Lord's jurisdiction. And if the passers-by bowed with fear in front of him, he was also certainly controlling the police. As he himself had said a month earlier, no one would help her. Except perhaps those rebel fighters he loathed...

"Please calm down ladies and gentleman! Everything is under the control of the magical police", a magically amplified voice echoed. "Please evacuate quietly."

However, the effect of this authoritarian tone was quickly negated by a new explosion, closer. The sky was suddenly full of huge flames thrown in all directions, and the crowd panicked completely. Hermione immediately conjured the shield charm, but fortunately the fire remained purely in the sky.

Once the danger was cleared, she peeked carefully at the fireplaces. She did not have anywhere else to go using them. She felt lucky enough to have been able to get out of Slytherin Castle, and she did not want to try her luck by announcing a random destination. She needed to leave this street another way, and as discreetly as possible.

The magical policemen were in charge of coordinating the crowd's evacuation, but their attention was mostly focused on the explosions coming from one side of the street. They seemed particularly disorganized, as if they were not used to deal with this type of incident, and despite her apprehensions Hermione easily managed to sneak in the opposite direction.

She stealthily made her way against the continuous stream of wizards and witches hurrying to the fireplaces, and as she progressed the street became emptier. A few policemen crossed her path, but each time she successfully hid herself behind other wizards or storefronts.

Finally, the street became completely deserted. Hermione paused for a moment, looking around. She spotted a bookstore, Flourish and Blotts, displaying a "Closed" sign on the door, and few other shops – she had absolutely no idea what could be sold inside –, all of them hurriedly closed.

"Well, where am I supposed to go now?" Hermione sighed.

Slowly she progressed in the empty street. Explosions could still be heard in the background, and she suddenly felt quite anxious. She had crossed few other streets, but all were narrow and dark, and Hermione had preferred to stay on the main street. She was still holding firmly her wand, and she was beginning to wonder if it may not be better to leave the far too obvious main street, when her thoughts were interrupted by rushing footsteps coming from behind.

There must have been at least a dozen of people, and in the deserted street Hermione had no place to hide. Panicked, she quickly looked around, evaluating her options, before slipping into a shadowy street on her right, named Knockturn Alley. She swallowed nervously, moving away only a few steps before being totally hidden in the shadows, as if the alley was magically enchanted to be so dark.

Several policemen sprinted in the main street and passed just in front of her without stopping. They had just disappeared when new footsteps were heard, this time coming from somewhere deeper in Knockturn Alley. They were much more discreet, and Hermione was nearly surprised when three masked wizards suddenly appeared not so far from her. They were not dressed like policemen, and they seemed to be running away from something, throwing frequent glances behind them.

"We must leave quickly, our time is running out," one of them said hastily.

"Let's go to Diagon Alley," another answered. "The police may have not activated the anti-Apparition wards yet."

Hermione hesitated only for a moment.

"Don't go to Diagon Alley," she said, popping up right next to them.

In a quick motion they all turner to face her, and in the blink of an eye Hermione had three wands pointed straight at her. She wondered confusedly why she was always managing to find herself in the middle of painful situations, and why she had felt the need to warn these completely unknown wizards, instead of ensuring her own escape.

"A dozen of policemen have just passed by; they were going to the right side. And on the other side of the street the police is controlling the evacuation," she murmured quickly.

As if to prove her right, footsteps were heard again, and the three wizards rapidly retreated to the darkness of Knockturn Alley again, Hermione cautiously following them. But they had barely taken a few steps before five other wizards emerged from the end of the street. Spells were immediately casted between the eight wizards, and Hermione stepped back slightly.

"Stupefy!"

"Diffindo!"

"Crucio!"

"Expelliarmus!"

She would have continued her own journey if they were not blocking all the street and she was pondering her chances to go unnoticed if she applied a Notice-Me-Not charm on herself, when she recognized with astonishment Vincent Crabbe among the assailants, whose faces were not covered. With another glance she spotted Gregory Goyle. Her heart started to beat faster.

If these wizards were fleeing both the magical police and her former jailers, there was a good chance that they may be part of this famous rebellion. And if Hermione knew next to nothing about it – they could be far worse than the Dark Lord – she knew that she could not wander in this street forever, and that she would probably not be able to survive all by herself in the magical world.

"Stupefy," she casted, joining the battle.

Her spell, quietly whispered, reached Gregory Goyle seamlessly, and he collapsed on the ground with a dull sound. Hermione looked with astonishment at her wand. She had never been able to hit the Dark Lord, never, and here she had easily succeeded. With a fluid movement she avoided a curse casted by one of the opponents who had reacted faster than the others to her sudden appearance. It gave her an adrenaline rush, and Hermione focused on the fight.

"Incendio," she said, putting all her strength into it.

The robes of one of the wizards ignited violently. So violently that the three masked wizards were able to take advantage of their opponents' stupor, and immobilized all those still standing while the last wizard was busy putting out the fire. Suddenly the street became silent, and Hermione and the three wizards eyed each other.

Cautiously, Hermione probed them with her magic. The left one did not have a very impressive aura, but it felt determined and comforting. The one in the middle, the tallest, had a sweet and powerful magic, seeming to flow like water around him. But the most impressive magical aura was the one of the last wizard. Lively, unsettled, resolute. Far from being as powerful as the one of the Dark Lord, but definitely above the average wizard. And so luminous… without a hint of the darkness that engulfed the Dark Lord's magic.

Mustering her courage, Hermione took a calm step towards them.

"Let me come with you," she asked in a clear voice.

She had lowered her wand even though she was still alert.

"We must leave," the left one said, obviously annoyed, without looking at her. "We must reach the end of Knockturn Alley before the entire perimeter is completely blocked..."

"I cannot stay here, please," Hermione tried again.

"Give us your wand then," the one with the powerful magic ordered.

She hesitated few seconds, but finally let her wand rest in her palm. The wizard quickly performed a non-verbal Expelliarmus and her wand flew into his hands.

She followed them obediently until the end of the street. And then a Stupefy was cast towards her. She did not avoid it, and her last thought before sinking into unconsciousness was that she hoped she had not made a disastrous mistake by trusting them.

oOoOoOo

Harry, Ron and Kingsley looked at the girl – young woman – lying on the bed. Bushy hair framed a rather pretty face, and if the girl's cloak had disappeared over time, the beautiful dress she was wearing below was in perfect condition. Harry was sure he had never seen her before, even if she seemed to be about his age.

"Why did you agree to take her with us?" Ron asked unhappily.

"She helped us. And we were not going to leave her in the middle of Knockturn Alley with five unconscious Death Eaters!" Harry replied angrily.

Both knew that their irritation was not so much linked to the girl than to the failure of their mission this afternoon.

"Harry is right," Kingsley said calmly. "We still have some time before the next Order's meeting; let's use it to clarify the situation. At worst, we will cast a memory charm on her. What have you done with her wand Ron?"

"It's neatly stored in the living room."

Harry snorted mockingly. Ronal Weasley and neat were not two things belonging together. His friend put up a falsely outraged expression, and it almost managed to lift Harry's dark mood.

"What if it's a plan to spy on us?" Harry asked.

He could not help but find her sudden presence in the shadowy alley suspicious, as all other wizards had been evacuated.

"Let's see what she can tell us, and we'll decide what to do," Kingsley said wisely.

Harry nodded. Without her wand the girl will not be able to do anything. Though he could not help a shiver run down his spine when he remembered how strongly Travers' robes had caught fire after the young witch's spell.

"Should we use our masks?" Ron asked.

"A concealing charm should be enough," Kingsley replied.

A few wands movements later their faces disappeared completely into the darkness of their hoods. Then all three faced the girl, their wands firmly held in their hands.

"Rennervate!" Kingsley casted smoothly.

The girl's eyelids fluttered several times, before she became aware of her surroundings, and of the three wizards pointing their wands at her. She got up slowly, her gaze fixed on their wands, and stood near the bed in a clearly defensive stance. Her expression was somewhere between suspicious and worried, though she strangely did not seem to be afraid.

"Are you the rebels?" she asked, suspiciously squinting.

Harry tightened his grip on his wand, now even more mistrustful than previously. No information about their existence had leaked in the media before today. Only Death Eaters could be aware of their existence, and if the girl was not bearing the Dark Mark, there was no evidence that it was not done specifically to fool them. A quick glance from the girl on his wand showed him that she had noticed his movement and she seemed to tense slightly.

"We will be the ones asking the questions here Miss," Kingsley calmly but firmly answered.

The girl turned and looked at him suspiciously. She was obviously alert, as if she expected them to throw her a curse while she was unarmed.

"We're not going to hurt you," Kingsley said. "We just want some answers."

She nodded dryly, allowing them to ask their questions.

"What is your name?" Kingsley began gently.

"Hermione."

"And your last name?" Ron asked in a dry voice.

The girl calmly turned to him before answering.

"I do not wish to give away information about my family."

"Why ? Because they're Death Eaters?" Ron said.

"I just wish to protect my family, and as long as I'm not sure you won't hurt them I will not give you my last name," the girl answered, a glimmer of defiance in her brown eyes.

Again, she seemed to expect one of them to curse her but relaxed when their wands did not move.

"And what are Death Eaters?" she went on.

A stupefied silence filled in the room. Even though he could not see their faces, Harry exchanged an incredulous look with Ron and Kingsley. Who the hell did not know about Death Eaters, Voldemort's closest followers? What was the girl thinking asking them that?

"Are you a foreigner Miss?" Kingsley continued, undeterred.

"No, I am not. I am from London originally. But I was kidnapped last August. I managed to escape today, and the men you dueled with, I recognized two of them. They were my jailers. I thought you might be able to help me."

Harry now had even more questions for her.

"Which of them did you recognized?" Kingsley asked. "Could you give us their names?"

Harry admired his ability to keep his voice calm and measured. But that was not really surprising. Kingsley had been an auror before the fall, and he must have had a lot of odd interrogations.

"Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle," the girl replied.

"Crabbe and Goyle?" Ron wondered. " _They_ kidnapped you?"

Harry shared his friend's surprise. From what he had seen at Hogwarts, neither Crabbe nor Goyle were particularly bright. They were generally content to obey Draco fucking Malfoy, and to serve as bodyguards to the insufferable blond.

"No, no," the girl replied. "I was kidnapped by Tyler Greengrass."

Harry blinked several times. Why had Britain's Minister of Magic, and incidentally one of Voldemort's inner circle Death Eater, abducted this girl?

"Tyler Greengrass?" Kingsley asked. "Are you sure?"

The girl's gaze became uncertain, as if she was surprised by their reactions.

"He introduced himself as Tyler Greengrass. And the Dark Lord called him Tyler."

"The Dark Lord?" Harry croaked.

"What?" Ron said at the same time.

What the hell was going on?

"Oh, pardon me," the girl said. "Perhaps you don't know who I am talking about. The Dark L…"

"We know who you're talking about Miss," Kingsley interrupted her blandly. "Everyone knows who the Dark Lord is."

Harry noticed that his voice was slightly shaky. It seemed that Kingsley was finally as bemused as Ron and himself. How could she suggest that they did not know about the Dark Lord? Was she insane?

"Ah, wonderful," she replied flatly.

"You have met the Dark Lord then?" Kingsley continued.

"I was abducted for the Dark Lord," she answered with a hint of anger in her voice.

Harry gave up his dignified posture and leaned back against the wall. He was starting to wonder if he was not somehow dreaming all this up.

"You had been imprisoned by the Dark Lord?" Kingsley asked. "Since August?"

"Yes," she confirmed.

This time it was outrage Harry could see in her eyes, and he assessed her more thoroughly. She did not seem to have been the Dark Lord's prisoner. Admittedly, she looked tired, but there was no visible trace of any torture or abuse. And he was pretty sure Voldemort did not kidnap random girls only for tea.

"Have you been tortured?" he asked with concern.

"I have been, at first," the girl said, shrugging slightly as if it was just a mere inconvenience. "But it has been quite a while since he had been really cruel with me."

"What?" Ron said.

The girl seemed a little startled by their reaction, as if she was the one saying perfectly normal things.

"How many times did you meet the Dark Lord?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"Few times a week," the girl replied.

Who was that girl? Voldemort only spent time with his closest Death Eaters. He was a monarch highly inaccessible to everyone else, and those for whom he made himself accessible generally regretted it rapidly. Nobody spent so much time with the Dark Lord. Especially a mere prisoner!

"And why were you meeting so often with the Dark Lord?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"I never asked to meet him!" Hermione replied vehemently. "He was the one who wanted to analyze my magic! And those past weeks I don't know what he had in mind at all, I don't even know why I'm still alive!"

Her furious and desperate tone brought silence to the small room, and Harry reviewed in his head what he had heard. Analyze her magic? What strange experiences was the Dark Lord doing? And why?

"Could you tell me who exactly is the Dark Lord?" the girl asked, taking Harry aback once more. "And why is everyone bowing in front of him?"

The last sentence was pronounced with obvious frustration.

"The Dark Lord is the sole ruler of the Magical Alliance," Kingsley provided.

"The Magical Alliance?"

"It covers the wizarding communities of most European countries, as well as some countries in the Middle East and in Asia," Kingsley added. "And Russia also since December."

"Oh my god!" the girl said, putting a hand in front of her mouth. "Most European countries? And… oh, Russia. Since December. That's why he was so satisfied! So he really _is_ powerful. And wizards are not bothered by the fact that their sole ruler is a psychotic narcissist?"

If Harry's face was not hidden in his hood's shadows, his gaping would have been quite obvious. Ron choked loudly. And Kingsley sighed and, as Harry, leaned against the wall for some support. She had called Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord, the sole ruler of the Magical Alliance, a psychotic narcissist. She was completely reckless.

"Most wizards are afraid he would retaliate if they do not obey him," Kingsley replied when he was able to articulate a sentence again.

Harry perceived the slight note of discouragement in Kingsley's voice, and he sighted. They were so few to fight against him today.

"But you, you try to oppose him, don't you?" the girl said.

"Indeed," Harry replied.

"Then I would like to help you."

Harry stared at her. She seemed determined, and she did not even look afraid.

"Aren't you afraid of him?" Harry asked curiously.

"Of course I'm afraid of him," the girl replied. "But it doesn't change anything. Now that I have run away from him, if he ever finds me again, he'll kill me no matter what."

She had shuddered at the end of her sentence, but her determined gaze had not wavered.

"Can you tell us how you managed to escape?" Kingsley asked.

And Harry must admit that he was curious to know too.

"Hum," the girl started. "The Dark Lord and I were in the dueling room when one of his servants arrived. Severus."

"Severus Snape?" Kingsley asked.

"He didn't say his last name. He came to warn the Dark Lord that there were some attacks. And to make it short they both ended up leaving, forgetting to take my wand back. Then I wandered in the castle's corridors until I heard people departing to Diagon Alley using the fireplaces. Once they all left, I did the same thing."

"And it worked? Just like that?" Ron wondered.

The girl nodded and Ron burst out laughing happily.

"Well, the twins had had to completely distress the Death Eaters for them to be so distracted! If we had known that the restrictions on the Floo Network would be lifted we could even have attacked the castle!"

"It was probably only lifted for wizards exiting from the castle," Kingsley said. "Even if I am also quite surprised they would make such a monumental mistake… the Dark Lord was surely not present when this decision was taken."

"He was not in the castle when I left, I think," the girl said. "I didn't even know it was possible to put restrictions on the… Floo network."

She seemed quite frustrated.

"How come you know so little about the wizarding world?" Ron asked.

"I'm Muggle," the girl answered.

"Oh no, you're a witch, we've seen you cast spells," Ron retorted.

"I mean, I was a Muggle before. Before August."

"You mean you didn't know you were a witch?" Harry asked.

"No, I didn't."

"And you had never heard of the magical world before August?" Ron continued.

"No."

"How is it possible?" Harry wondered, more for himself than for the girl.

"Is it unusual?"

Harry waddled, uncomfortable.

"All the wizarding children are identified at birth in the ministry records," Kingsley explained. "Muggle born children are usually contacted when they are 4 or 5 years old."

"Contacted?" the girl asked. "To teach them magic?"

Her innocent question increased Harry's discomfort. She obviously did not know anything about the current wizarding world or its laws.

"What?" the girl asked, probably surprised by their silence.

"Muggleborns are usually given as a gift to the Dar Lord's closest Death Eaters," Kingsley admitted.

The girl stood speechless in front of them, a horrified look on her face.

"Seriously?" she finally said. "Are they slaves then? But it's completely barbaric! How can you allow this?"

"It has not always been the case," Kingsley said gently. "Before the Dark Lord's coup 11 years ago, all wizards were treated equally, regardless of their origins. There was some form of racism of course, but Muggleborns and purebloods were equals by law, and all were able to attend Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts?" Hermione asked.

"The school of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Ron said.

"The Dark Lord controls everything in the Magical Alliance currently," Kingsley said. "But it is a heresy, and we are trying to overthrow him to change that."

"I'll help you as much as possible," Hermione said. "I refuse to let the Dark Lord dictate my life !"

oOoOoOo

Lord Voldemort was in a particularly foul mood that night.

First of all, Severus Snape had interrupted his time with the Mudblood because his Death Eaters' manors were under attack. These morons of Amycus and Alecto Carrow had even managed to be injured. And Voldemort had barely stepped into the Minister of Magic's office that Tyler's secretary has barged in to announce that Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley and the Ministry of Magic itself were also under attack.

Neither the glimmer of fear that had lingered in the secretary's gaze when she noticed the Dark Lord's presence, nor her painful screams under his prolonged Cruciatus had soothed Lord Voldemort's fury.

He had immediately summoned the Death Eaters from his first two circles and strongly urged them not to disappoint him. He had himself quickly Apparated to the Ministry of Magic's atrium to assess the potential danger. And all of that for what? To discover that the attacks were in fact slightly arranged fireworks.

There was absolutely no threat. Certainly, even Voldemort could recognize that it was quite clever magic, but all of the explosions and flames were only illusions. Nothing was more powerful than a basic Incendio. And it had made him wonder how the Carrows had even managed to get injured. Had all competent wizards left England or what?

Immediately, Voldemort had realized that it should be a diversion, and had spread the word among his inner circle. Some of his Death Eaters had even managed to locate the rebels. But no, even then, they had not been able to capture one. Lord Voldemort had made sure that their evening was even worse than his.

Pop.

The elf was not even fully materialized in the room that the Dark Lord's wand was already pointed at it. The green light of the Avada Kedavra was beginning to shine at the end of his wand to punish the fool who dared disturbing him, when Voldemort realized it was the Mudblood's elf. What had she done now?

"Master, Dory came to tell the master that Miss Hermione is not in her room, master," the elf said quickly in a trembling voice.

"Not in her room?" Voldemort repeated with his coldest tone.

"Dory brought Miss Hermione's meal, but Dory cannot find Miss Hermione."

Voldemort immediately Apparated into Hermione's room and it only took him few seconds to confirm that the girl was no longer there. And had not been for few hours. Her magical presence was barely perceptible. And it hit him. He had summoned Severus this afternoon, along with all his Death Eaters from the first two circles. Severus who was supposed to be watching Hermione. Hermione who was training with her wand.

Severus was going to pay dearly for his bad timing. Voldemort already felt his wand itching. And Hermione would not live long enough to understand what was happening to her. Fighting back his urge to murder someone, Voldemort lowered his wand.

A moment later he was back in the dueling room where he had last seen the Mudblood. The air still bore the trace of her magical power, and he could easily track it back to the opening spell she had casted on the door. Led by Hermione's magic and Slytherin Castle's magic, he walked quickly in the same corridors as the girl a few hours earlier.

When he entered the arriving and departing room few of his privileged Death Eaters could use to enter and exit the castle, he immediately identified the fireplace in front of which she had stopped. The trace stopped there, and Voldemort stood startled for a moment. Hermione Granger could not have used the Floo Network. She was evidently not on the small list of authorized persons. Even the vast majority of his Death Eaters could only enter and exit through the castle's main entrance.

With a wave of his wand he conjured the register of all exiting wizards, and his anger reached his peak when he discovered that Hermione had indeed left the castle for Diagon Alley.

The room's furniture exploded when his magic flared. Hermione Granger was a walking corpse. And he would personally take care of her long and painful incoming death as soon as he would locate her. He would make her beg to kill her, to finish her miserable existence.

But in the meantime, he was going to vent his anger on someone else. Bellatrix would have a hell of a night. Only she was allowed to lift the exit restrictions on the Floo Network in case of emergency. In case of emergency! Not to fight stupid fireworks! Not to be once again mocked by the rebels! And now he had lost his Mudblood. Even he would not be able to identify her magic in the middle of Diagon Alley, especially not hours later.

Furious, Voldemort summoned Bellatrix directly to him, the whole room around him shaking from his anger.

oOoOoOo

At the same moment, without knowing anything of Dark Lord's fury, Hermione was quietly resting on the bed in the room she was currently kept in. She had lengthy spoken with the three wizards, explaining her escape, and her stay at the Dark Lord's castle.

They assured her that she was safe with them, and that they would protect her. And for the first time in months, Hermione actually felt relieved. There was no evidence that the wizards had not just played her, but Hermione wanted to believe them.

She was still furious about what they had explained to her. Muggleborn slaves. It would have been her fate if her magical shield had not existed! She had wondered for a long time about why the shield had been casted on her, and she now wondered if it had not been done to protect her. If so, she could only thank with all her heart her mysterious benefactor. True, her current situation was not perfect either, but at least she was not a slave.

Did not the Dark Lord have any regard for anyone? She knew that he was obsessed with power and knowledge, and she knew that only his goals mattered to him. But knowing now that this man was running several countries' magical society, it was dreadful. And despite her fear of the man, despite his terrifying powers, Hermione was determined to help the rebels to overthrow him.

Tomorrow will be the starting point of a new life.

oOoOoOo

 **AN:** See you in two weeks!


	13. Chapter 13

Hello,

As usual, a big thank you to everyone who follows this story, and especially to all those who leave reviews (I love them ^^).

Here is a new chapter for you.

Have a nice day,

Perhentian

oOoOoOo

 **Chapter 13 - March 1999**

Hermione did not sleep well. Even though she currently felt safe, she had many other reasons to worry. What if the rebels decided that she was useless? What if the Dark Lord found her? Could she still have a chance for a normal life again? What if the Dark Lord targeted her parents? Had the rebels been honest with her? All those questions had populated her nightmares.

Thus, when the next morning someone knocked on the door, she was already awake for a few hours, and she hastily invited him to enter. A dark-haired young man with round spectacles, about her age, slipped into the room. He was holding in his hands a plate full of toasts and bacon bits, and the smell was exquisite. She recognized his magic before he even spoke, lively and powerful, and she was surprised to see that he was so young.

"Hi, I'm Harry," he introduced himself.

He smiled and locked his gaze with hers, and Hermione almost drowned in his eyes intense, nearly unnatural, green color.

"Hermione," she replied politely, knowing that he already knew it.

With a wand motion the young man brought the bedside table closer and turned it into a wobbly little table. He put the plate down on it, before sitting right next to her on the bed.

"Sorry, I'm quite poor at advanced transfigurations," he said with another smile.

"It's your wand movements," Hermione said. "It must be brisker in the end, as explained in " _Theories of Transubstantial Transfiguration_ "."

Harry looked baffled and Hermione realized the rudeness of her remark.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "It wasn't my intention to sound so aggressive."

"No worries," the boy said. "Where did you read that book? I thought you didn't know the magical world before your kidnapping."

"You're correct. The Dark Lord has lent it to me when I was at his castle."

Harry looked at her strangely, and Hermione sighed. She had no idea why the Dark Lord had kept her alive since December, and even less why he had taught her how to use her magic.

"I have forgotten that he was training you… I cannot really picture the Dark Lord doing anything else than throwing random Cruciatus," Harry said resentfully.

"I suppose we can agree that it truly is his favorite curse," Hermione replied.

All the worst memories of her captivity came back vividly in her mind and she could not repress a shudder. Instinctively she closed her arms around her, before recovering and resolutely chasing away those memories.

"Why does everyone call him the Dark Lord?" she asked. "I mean, he has a name, hasn't he?"

The young man in front of her sighed.

"Of course he has a name, but there's a Taboo on it," Harry said. "If you ever say his name out loud, the magical police will be on you in the blink of an eye. Perhaps even the Death Eaters."

"Could you write it down for me then?" Hermione asked, her curiosity picked.

Harry nodded, and with a flick of his wand made a parchment and a quill appear in his hands. He scribed rapidly on it, and handed her the parchment. Hermione looked at it eagerly.

" _Lord Voldemort_ "

The name was not surprising. Of course the Dark Lord would have such a name, quite in tune with his immoderate ego and his desire to control everything.

"It's a pseudonym, isn't it?" she asked. "It sounds French."

"Indeed."

"And what about his real name?"

"Nobody knows," Harry shrugged.

He had answered too quickly, and Hermione looked at him suspiciously.

"How is that even possible?" she asked. "He hasn't simply appeared out of nowhere, has he? He's what, thirty something? Some wizards must have known him when he was a child!"

She imagined a small Dark Lord, six or seven years old, breathtakingly beautiful, with a gaze as cold as the ice despite being blood red. It made her particularly uncomfortable.

"Don't trust his looks," Harry said. "They have changed many times during his life. When he first began his rise to power in the late 60s he looked more like a snake than a human being."

"In the late 60s?" Hermione repeated, astonished. "But it was 30 years ago! You're saying that he is what, at least 50 years old?"

"At least yes. He started to look like what he now looks like a little before he took over the country in 1987, but I think it's just an illusion. A few countries have fallen under his rule just because he looks like the perfect wizard: handsome, powerful, intelligent," Harry said, his voice laced with bitterness.

Hermione must have looked outraged because he laughed slightly. Strangely she had never imagined that wizards could change their appearance. It was frustrating to know so little about the wizarding world. To be so ignorant. She had thousands of questions jostling in her head, and she decided to start with a subject that had made her particularly envious the day before.

"Have you been to the magical school? Hogwarts, was that it?"

"Hogwarts yes. I went there and graduated last year."

"Are you a pureblood then?"

"No," Harry sighed. "A half-blood and a blood-traitor. I can have a wand, and I can use magic, but if I misbehave even slightly there would be dire consequences. Outside those walls I always need to show my support to the current government, and to be a good little sheep."

He made a childish grin and Hermione smiled. Harry's lightness made her feel better. She felt strangely at ease, in that warm and friendly atmosphere, a hundred leagues from what she had lived with the Dark Lord – Voldemort. She knew she had not been so at ease for months, and she really felt like she was finally alive again.

"Half-blood, what does that mean? One of your parents is not a wizard?" she finally asked.

"Not exactly, my father was a pureblood but my mother was a Muggle-born witch."

"Was?"

"They're dead," Harry said curtly.

"Pardon me," Hermione apologized hurriedly. "It was tactless."

"It's ok, no worries."

Harry looked quite sad before recovering.

"Let's go to the living room Hermione, it'll be more comfortable to chat."

"I thought I was not allowed to exit this room?" Hermione checked.

"We adjusted the house's wards last night so you won't be able to get out anyway. From now on, you can access the ground floor and this room freely."

"Oh that's great, thank you very much," Hermione answered with a big smile.

Harry got up, picked up the plate and headed for the door. Hermione straightened herself too and quickly moved to open the door to help him. He thanked her with a nod, and then took her down a flight of stairs before pointing a room on his right.

"The living room is right here, go ahead, I need to put that back in the kitchen first," Harry said.

Hermione nodded, and entered the living room. It was a large room, with a huge fireplace, few armchairs and a long library along a wall. The room was in fact nearly empty, and the shelves in the library were far from full. However, it was towards them that Hermione walked. She did not dare to touch the books, and only read the titles on the edges. She smiled when Harry entered the room.

"Is it your home?" she asked.

"Mine and Ron's, who was here yesterday, too. This is my parents' old house. Most of the furniture and the valuables in it were confiscated."

"Confiscated?" Hermione asked.

Harry looked at her unhappily.

"My parents fought against the Dark Lord. They died in the last battle before his coup. My vault and all their belongings were frozen until I turned 17, and in the meantime the Death Eaters stole everything. But I have at least been able to get the house back when I reached my majority."

"I am so sorry," Hermione said compassionately.

She felt bad for Harry, who had become an orphan when he was still a child, and who had since been living in a world ruled by his parent's killer. But Harry only shrugged.

"My godfather took me in, but he took part in an attack few months later and he had to flee the country not to be arrested. After that, it was Ron's family who took charge of me. We grew up with clear instructions to act like obedient pawns. We have all promised to wait until our graduation from Hogwarts to do anything, so we would be able to keep our wands and not be considered as a threat. But now we're finally out of Hogwarts, and ready to act."

"How can I help you?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know," Harry said. "We are all living two lives, one public, working for the government, and one more discreet, helping the rebellion. But if you escaped from the Dark Lord, you won't be able to do anything outside of this house."

Hermione frowned for a moment.

"Haven't you said that it was possible to change one's appearance? That the Dark Lord has done it several times?"

"The Dark Lord has done it, but the Dark Lord masters magics no one else knows," Harry said reluctantly.

It was kind of reassuring to have the confirmation that the Dark Lord's powers were not common ones, that it was not only due to her dreadful competencies that she had always lost against him. But on the other hand, how could they fight him in this case?

"It's possible to change your looks briefly, using Polyjuice for example. And we use that quite frequently to cover ourselves when we attack. But the duration is limited, and some places have protections against these subterfuges."

"But I can still help you when the actions you're doing are not reprehensible," Hermione pointed out.

She could not stand staying back, while others were fighting.

"I may be rude, but are you even able to fight?" Harry said cautiously. "You only recently learned about the existence of magic after all…"

"I know," Hermione said with sadness. "But I want to continue learning. If you authorize me to borrow your books of course."

"Help yourself. But what you would truly need is to train, and it will be hard to find people who have the time to help you regularly. Even myself I need to leave now… But tonight I can show you one or two things if you want me to."

"That would be really great, thank you! I really need to be able to protect myself."

"I won't return you your wand for now though," Harry warned her.

"It's ok, I understand," Hermione replied.

She smiled, and Harry smiled back warmly. He got up, and was about to go out when Hermione stopped him. Their light conversation had for a moment distracted her from her continuous anguish, but now she needed to make sure few things were taken care of.

"Harry?" she said.

"Yes?"

"There is... I mean, would it be possible for you to find a way to protect my parents? They are not wizards, and Tyler Greengrass knows where I lived… I'm afraid they would hurt them now that I escaped. In fact, I don't even know if they're still alive..."

"We'll try to do something."

"I'll be really grateful if you could help them. I have no idea how, but anything's better than the current situation. I really don't want anything to happen to them."

"I'll try my best Hermione. I'll let you know."

Hermione thanked him and gave him her home address, as well as the location of her parents' dental office. She watched Harry leave, and sat down in an armchair and closed her eyes. She dearly hoped that the rebels would be able to protect her parents. She would never forgive herself if something happened to them.

oOoOoOo

Voldemort's grip on his yew wand tightened, his magic pulsing in his right hand, more than ready to be used. At Tyler Greengrass' quick glance he knew that his minister had noticed his movement. It was not important. The Dark Lord was still furious, and Tyler Greengrass, like many others, had already paid quite extensively for it.

"If anyone shows any support for the rebels, make it a public example of the ministry's intransigence on the subject. The people must not support them in any way. They must be perceived as terrorists disturbing the peaceful life of the citizens, not as a group trying to end my reign."

"Yes, my Lord," Tyler answered.

"Link with Lucius to ensure that there is no consequences in other countries either."

"It will be done my Lord."

Voldemort nodded, and dismissed Tyler with a scornful gesture. However, he reconsidered just before his Death Eater exited.

"And send me the exact address of Hermione Granger's family."

"Yes my Lord."

oOoOoOo

Harry disappeared from his home using the Floo network. He had to go to a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix's inner circle at Grimmauld Place. Despite how long Bellatrix Lestrange and the Malfoy had tried to locate the house they were never able to, the 12th Grimmauld Place having been heavily protected by Dumbledore's wards. And it was still used as a meeting place by the rebels.

As he clumsily exited the fireplace Harry noted that Remus Lupin and Minerva McGonagall were already there.

"Good morning Harry," Minerva said.

"Professor McGonagall, Remus," Harry greeted. "Snape is not here yet?"

"Professor Snape Harry," McGonagall corrected mechanically.

Suddenly the flames in the fireplace flared and all of them turned to face them, wands pointed forward. Despite the fact that no one had managed to breach the wards in the last twelve years, they always remained particularly alert. The tension dissipated only when they identified Severus Snape, even if Harry briefly wondered if he could manage to _inadvertently_ cast a vicious curse on their spy.

"Severus, we weren't sure you'll be able to join us," Minerva said.

"I managed to free myself. Unless you do not wish me to join you anymore?" he said in an unpleasantly sweet tone.

"You're welcome Severus, as always," Remus said concisely.

Severus Snape quickly glared at Harry before taking a seat at the table.

"Have your stupid fireworks been useful?" Snape asked.

"Not really," Remus answered, who knew from last night's Order's meeting.

Everyone turned to Harry and he sighed, resigned.

"We were intercepted by a group of Death Eaters before we reached Borgin and Burkes," he explained peevishly. "We tried to avoid them but only managed to be reduced to fight and immobilize them. And by the time it was done it was already too late for us to try anything."

Snape snorted disdainfully.

"It was useless anyway," he said. "I do not see why the Dark Lord would have hidden a Horcrux at Borgin and Burkes."

"We needed to try it!" Harry defended himself. "Dumbledore was mentioning significant places of his youth, and "Tom Riddle" has worked in there for several years."

"Dumbledore has always loved to be too vague to be correctly understood," Snape said.

"Severus," McGonagall said gently. "Let's not start this conversation again. We've already been lucky to be able to find some of his notes at Hogwarts."

"So well hidden that it took us ten years to find them," Snape snorted. "Why hasn't he warned us beforehand?"

Minerva McGonagall sighed, and Harry glanced almost worriedly at Hogwarts' headmaster. He looked tired. Usually, it was rather Harry who complained about the weakness of their hypotheses, and the vagueness of the former leader of the Order of the Phoenix. He realized suddenly that their attacks the previous day should have drastically angered Voldemort. Snape had probably been tortured by the Dark Lord.

"If you are so sure it cannot be Borgin and Burke Severus, we'll focus on the other possibilities," Remus said peacefully. "His family? His childhood?"

"His family," Snape replied after a few moments of reflection.

"For once I agree," Harry said. "After all, he takes great pride in being Slytherin's heir."

"If even Potter agrees," Snape sniffed contemptuously.

Remus and McGonagall also approved, but Harry's mood remained dark. It had been months since they had discovered the existence of these Horcruxes, and they had not managed to find any of them yet.

"How has the Dark Lord reacted yesterday?" McGonagall asked.

Snape's face was an impassive mask, but Harry noticed the nervous tic of the spy's mouth.

"He was furious of course. You will all need to be particularly discreet in the coming days."

All nodded. They could not afford to be caught. If only one of them fell into the hands of the Dark Lord, all the others would fall, and death was probably sweater than what the Dark Lord would do to them. They had already lost one of them at Christmas, killed by Bellatrix Lestrange during a duel, and the memory was still quite painful.

"International communications will surely be closely monitored too, but once it's quieter Remus you can inform your lapdog that the Dark Lord is looking more and more to China and Japan. Perhaps the mutt will be able to do something this time, not like in Russia…"

Harry struggled to control his anger against Snape, the bastard always disrespecting his godfather, but finally calmed down. There was no point to confront Snape about that, it will only make the matter worse.

"William Weasley will surely be useful too," McGonagall added.

Snape nodded, and remained silent for a moment before speaking again.

"I don't know if the information is of any importance, but it seems that the Dark Lord has taken a new apprentice."

"Hermione Granger?" Harry asked.

Snape's gaze showed his surprise for a moment.

"And how could you be aware of that Potter?"

Harry quickly summarized his meeting with Hermione in Knockturn Alley.

"So it is true then? The Dark Lord was training her?" Remus asked.

"It seems so," Snape replied. "But I hardly had the opportunity to discuss it with either of them."

"She asked me if we could do anything for her parents. They're muggle, and she's afraid the Dark Lord will go after them now," Harry said.

"Protecting their house would only draw more attention to them," Snape replied.

"Wouldn't it be possible to hide them in Godric's Hollow?" Harry asked.

"Unfortunately no Harry," McGonagall replied. "It's already risky enough for you to house Miss Granger."

"I may have another solution," Snape said, "but you might not like it. I can modify their memory and made them leave the country as soon as possible. They would move to the United States, for example, or any other English-speaking country."

"Hermione told me that everything was fine," Harry said. "As long as they will be safe."

"I'll take care of it right after this meeting then."

oOoOoOo

When Bellatrix finally left his study, Voldemort cast a distracted glance at the books he was reading before the situation escalated. Despite the fact that it was the middle of the afternoon, he wished he could have a glass of Firewhisky, or even some Dragons' Cognac. Anything strong enough to erase these rebels from his thoughts.

For the umpteenth time since yesterday, he wondered why they had caused such chaos. Their previous attacks had always targeted one of his Death Eaters. And always those with Mudblood slaves. Yesterday's attack was obviously a distraction, but from what? They had left no tangible tracks to be followed. None of his Death Eaters was badly injured. And no Mudblood was released.

Lazily playing with his wand in his hand, Voldemort decided to focus on another issue, making him angrier by only thinking about it. There was not the slightest chance that Hermione Granger would have returned to her parent's house, she was smarter than that. But she would try to protect them, in vain.

He was about to Apparate to Hermione Granger's home when the painting guarding his study announced Lucius' presence, the blond apparently having some urgent news.

"Let him in," Voldemort hissed in Parseltongue.

The Death Eater entered quickly and knelt with a particularly high deference.

"Speak," the Dark Lord ordered impatiently.

"My Lord, an article was published in a Spanish newspaper praising the rebels' actions. Granada's magical district may rise up at any time."

The yew wand immediately stopped twirling between his fingers and the atmosphere in the room tensed. Voldemort had had enough of these rebellions. They were going to regret having even thought about revolting. It would not go unpunished. It had obviously been too long since he had shown the world how much he hated insubordination. He was tempted for a moment to Apparate in Granada and to simply wipe it off the map.

With a wand motion Voldemort called Bellatrix, Rabastan, Rodolphus and Barty. The four Death Eaters materialized in his study a few seconds later.

"We're leaving for Spain," the Dark Lord announced in an icy voice. "It seems that the city of Granada needs a reminder of who its ruler is."

"Yes my Lord," the five Death Eaters in front of him said.

It will be raining blood this afternoon in Granada.

oOoOoOo

Hermione had her nose stuck in a book when the living room's door opened. She was surprised to see that it was not Harry, but a tall redhead with a face full of freckles.

"What are you doing here?" he asked dryly.

"Err, sorry," Hermione replied. "Harry told me that I could borrow his books while he was away."

The redhead did not answer but seemed unhappy.

"I can leave if I'm disturbing you," she said, closing the book she was reading.

"No, no, it's OK," the redhead grumbled. "Harry should be here any moment. I'm Ron by the way."

"Hermione, but you already know it. You are living here with Harry, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am. What are you doing with these books?"

"I'm reading them," Hermione replied, baffled. "What else do you want to do with books?"

Ron scowled visibly at her answer.

"I was just asking what you were looking for," Ron corrected.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Hermione replied. "I am looking for dueling spells currently, but all the different domains of magic interest me. I find everything so fascinating! It must have been amazing to go to Hogwarts."

"Yeah, well, there were bad sides too. History of magic was so boring that the teacher died, but became a ghost and continued to teach even before I was a student."

"Seriously?" Hermione asked.

"Seriously. And the divination teacher is so crazy that she spend her time predicting the death of everyone by reading tea leaves."

"Divination? That's a real discipline?"

"Given that according to the homework Harry and I have done we should have died at least 18 times before our graduation I would say no."

Hermione burst out laughing and a smile lit up Ron's face. Harry poked his head in the living room at the same moment.

"Ron, Hermione, hi!" he said. "Hermione, for your parents, someone is taking care of it. I'm afraid I will not hear from him for a few days but I'll let you know as soon as I have more information."

"Thank you very much!" Hermione answered, her mind a little lighter.

"I'll be right back."

And he went upstairs to get rid of his belongings. By the time he returned, Ron was pretending to read Hermione's future in a crystal ball and she was split between consternation and the urge to laugh.

"Hermione, are you still ok for me to evaluate your dueling level?" Harry asked. "Or do you prefer Ron to predict your next fifteen deaths?"

"I think I'll be able to wait a little bit for the end of Ron's predictions," Hermione agreed with a smile for the redhead.

"My talent is really underappreciated," Ron sighed while following them to the dueling room in the basement.

It was as frustrating as Hermione had imagined it. If Hermione had felt at easy at the beginning of their duel, she had quickly realized that she did not have the upper hand. Harry did not make her feel it as badly as Voldemort, but it was clear anyway. She struggled to counter the spells he sent her as best as she could, but ended up being hit by some unknown curse, which prevented her from avoiding an Expelliarmus. She remained stupidly standing in the middle of the room without her wand, on the verge of tears in front of this new failure that hurt even more than when she had faced the Dark Lord.

"It was quite good," Harry said with a big smile.

Hermione looked at him with astonishment. It was the first time someone had complimented her on her magical skills and she wondered if he was not saying that just to be nice.

"Really?" she asked timidly.

"Your spells are great," Ron commented. "You _will_ need some training, but you already know a lot of things."

"Oh, thank you, but I'm far from Harry's level," Hermione said humbly.

"I'm honestly surprised you can master this after only few months of practice," Harry said. "In fact, I think you'll even be able to train with the others. We are often meeting with our friends to improve our dueling skills; you are welcome if you want to join us!"

It had been a long time since Hermione had felt so happy, even if she was quite apprehensive.

"Could you indicate me which books I should read in the meantime? I absolutely need to improve."

"Yes, of course," Harry replied. "Let's go back, I'll show you a few of them."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione went back to the living room, and Harry glanced over the shelves, before taking out three Defense Against the dark Arts books and giving them to Hermione.

"These should be perfect for you," he announced.

"Thank you very much. And by any chance, would you also have " _Ptolemy's Methodology_ " and " _Magical Flows Theory_ "?" Hermione asked.

She had of course left both books in the Dark Lord's castle and if she knew Ptolemy's Methodology almost by heart, she had not finished reading " _Magical Flows Theory_ ", and felt quite frustrated about it.

"Err no, never heard of them," Harry said. "But I can ask other people if you want."

"If it's not too much to ask, it would be great," Hermione said shyly. "Oh, and if there are some books about Occlumency that would be perfect."

"You want to learn Occlumency?" Harry asked.

"Yes. I don't want the Dark Lord to read my mind ever again."

"I'll see what I can do," Harry said.

"Well, that's all great, but it's already past our usual dining time," Ron reminded them.

"I knew you would remind us that anyway," Harry said with fake fatalism.

It only took one comment from Hermione about the food tastiness for Ron to talk about his mother, and then Hermione questioned him about his entire family.

"Bill, my older brother, is a Curse-Breaker at Gringotts in China. He avoids coming back here too often. When the Dark Lord has taken power in November 1987 he was in his sixth year at Hogwarts and was clearly standing up against Death Eaters. The Curse-Breakers training allowed him to move abroad. First Egypt, then Singapore and now China."

"What's a Curse-Breaker?" Hermione asked.

"A pretty sharp job, Curse-Breakers often work on complex magical wards or objects," Harry explained. "Now that the training is controlled by the Magical Alliance, it is no longer possible for half-bloods and blood traitors to access it. Too subversive according to the government. They prefer us not to learn too much magic."

"Okay, and what are your other brothers doing Ron?"

"Charlie's a dragon keeper."

"Wow, does that really exist? It's incredible!"

"It's actually pretty impressive. Even for wizards. Percy... um... Percy works as a pen pusher in the ministry."

He scowled at this, but continued anyway.

"Fred and George got expelled from Hogwarts. They have not managed to stay beneath the radar long enough. Now they do small jobs here and there to find money and secretly they invent a lot of things very useful for the rebellion. And I have a little sister too, Ginny. She's still at Hogwarts for her last year."

"And what job are you doing?" Hermione asked Harry and Ron.

"I'm a handyman for the Nimbus broomstick company," Ron said. "I haven't wanted to go and lick the Death Eater's boots at the Ministry."

"They forced me to work in the Department of Mystery, at the Ministry of Magic," Harry said.

"Forced?"

"They're doing a test at the end of Hogwarts, to assess your magical power," Ron explained. "And if you're too powerful like Harry they usually keep a closer eye on you."

"So, I'm still forced to pretend to be ok with the regime, to be happy with the incredible chance they give me to be able to work in the Department of Ministry, and to unconditionally admire the Dark Lord," Harry completed with bitterness.

"This magical world is far less funny that what could have been expected," Hermione commented with a grimace.

Harry and Ron laughed slightly.

"We'll make it fun again then," Ron promised.

It made Hermione laugh, and she began to hope it could be true.

oOoOoOo

Lord Voldemort contemplated the bloodied body at his feet. Adriana Alvarez, the journalist who had dared to incite Granada's wizards to rebel, was now nothing more than an indistinct pile of flesh, bones and blood.

"Bella, hang up her body at the Alhambra," he ordered.

Voldemort saw Bellatrix's eyes shine with pleasure and he stepped back. His work here was finished. Spain would never again try to rebel, and March 7th, 1999 would certainly remain in history as a terrible day.

Letting his Death Eater took over, Voldemort stepped out of the sordid room where the insignificant journalist had lived and Apparated directly to England.

He materialized in a Muggle street. It was quite banal, with houses aligned next to each other. The last quarter of the moon lit the street dimly, completing the electrical lighting. It was slightly past eleven in the evening and most of the lights in the houses were off. Voldemort carefully scanned the numbers along the street before spotting the one he was looking for.

Unhurriedly, he went to the house. There was no protection around it, and he felt slightly surprised. Had Hermione not even tried to protect her parents? With a wave of his hand he opened the door and entered. The house was particularly silent.

"Hominum Revelio," he murmured.

The result was negative, and Voldemort cast a spell to light up the room. The living room was a mess, as if the parents of the Mudblood had left in haste.

"Vestigia Ostendo."

And indeed magic had been practiced recently in this house. Furious, Voldemort pulverized the remaining furniture to smithereens. One way or another, the Mudblood had managed to make her parents disappear just in time. Distractedly, he still cast a detection spell on the street - in case anyone came back - before a cruel smile stretched his lips.

He could not make Hermione's parents pay for their daughter's behavior. But he was still going to make the latter regret her escape. With a nonchalant gesture, the Dark Lord raised his wand, and the buildings exploded all around him.

oOoOoOo

 **AN:** Next chapter in two weeks as usual :)


	14. Chapter 14

Hi,

As usual, a big thank you to everyone who read / follow / favorite / review this story.

Have a nice day,

Perhentian

oOoOoOo

 **Chapter 14 - March - April 1999**

On Monday morning, Hermione had gotten up early to have breakfast with Harry and Ron before they left for work. They were quietly talking about this and that when a pounding noise interrupted them. Turning her head, Hermione noticed that a brown owl was perched on the edge of the window and was trying to enter in the kitchen.

She was looking dumbfounded at the owl – weren't they supposed to be nocturnal animals? – when Harry got up and calmly opened the window. The owl held out its leg and Hermione noticed that there actually was a newspaper between its claws. Harry retrieved it and the owl immediately flew away.

"Oh shit!" Harry swore as he unfolded the newspaper, and his entire face went pale.

"What's going on?" Ron asked with urgency.

He was already standing behind Harry and looking over his shoulder. Hermione saw his face whiten suddenly as she moved closer too, a feeling of dread settling over her. The two young men reaction could only make her fear for the worst. When she finally saw the front page she froze completely in shock. A huge, animated image showed a severely mutilated body, suspended in the air in the middle of what looked like a Moorish palace.

" _Magical Alliance's highest authorities have put an end to terrorist acts in Granada. The city is finally at peace."_

"That's awful!" Hermione commented angrily.

She could not believe that such barbarity could still exist. Torturing someone and exposing his body as a warning…

"It's our fault," Harry whispered frantically. "It's a response to the mess we created this weekend in England, there is no other explanation!"

"It's not our fault Harry, but the Dark Lord's one" Ron said. "He is the Magical Alliance ruler. Highest authorities… He may even have himself been in Granada to vent out his anger."

"But Ron, if..." Harry started.

"Show us the complete article, looking at this awful picture won't change anything," Ron snapped.

Harry put the newspaper on the table, shivering slightly, and was about to open it completely when a new bird rushed through the open window. It was a jet black eagle with ferocious eyes that flew without hesitation to Hermione, and handed her the letter between its claws. She was going to pick it up when Ron grabbed her arm.

"Who's sending you mail?" he asked.

"I have no idea," Hermione answered. "I don't know anyone in the magical world..."

"Let's cast extra detection spells on it then," Harry said.

Grabbing his wand he threw several spells, without detecting anything suspicious. He then authorized Hermione to retrieve the letter. As soon as it was done, the black eagle set off even faster than the owl, as if he did not want to stay any longer in their company.

Hermione turned over the envelope and froze when she saw the address, " _Hermione Jean Granger, somewhere in England_ ," written in an elegant script she had already seen. On the note that the Dark Lord had left her in "Ptolemy's Methodology". Why was Voldemort writing to her? Surely not to congratulate her for her successful escape…

"Are you ok Hermione?" Harry asked with concern as he saw she was still unmoving.

"It's the Dark Lord's handwriting," Hermione answered slowly.

"What?" Ron reacted violently. "Don't touch it!"

But Hermione kept the letter in her hand. It was clear that its contents will not bring her any good news, but she needed to know what had happened, what he could have done. Her hands shaking, she opened the letter, and two pieces of paper felt from it. A folded extract of a newspaper, and a note. The note was pretty short and Hermione breath got caught in her throat when she read it.

" _I hope your freedom was worth it_ ".

She grabbed the newspaper's extract, but had to try several times before being able to unfold it. It was a Muggle newspaper article, a photo taking half of the page. Her hands tightened as she recognized the street she had lived in, and most importantly, the blackened ruins of several houses. She looked at the headline.

 _"Accidental gas explosion in London. Several dead."_

"No no no!" she panicked.

"It's your parents' street!" Harry exclaimed. He should have recognized the address.

Frantically, Hermione scanned the newspaper article. The relief that overwhelmed her when it indicated that her house was empty when the accident occurred made her feel sick. It was the families of the nearest neighbors who had been killed. Fifteen people in total. Fifteen people whose names she knew, and who had shared part of her life.

Ron put a hand on her shoulder, but Hermione pushed it away furiously, grabbed the wand that Harry still had in his hand and burned the article, the note and the envelope, before collapsing into a chair and starting to sob uncontrollably.

oOoOoOo

The following days were tough for Harry and Hermione. Each of them felt terribly responsible for the atrocities committed by Voldemort. Their mood was constantly switching between an increased determination to fight the Dark Lord, and depressed gloom. However, they slowly recovered, largely thanks to Ron who was doing everything he could to cheer them up.

When both her situational roommates, who worked during the week, were out, Hermione spent all her free time reading everything in their library and testing spells, the two boys having quickly returned her her wand. And she was progressing faster than ever: not only did she have access to books, but she could also practice as much as she wanted.

And as he had promised, Harry invited her to most of the dueling practice classes, of which he was in fact the main teacher. She had discovered that she was not so bad in duels, but that she was completely ignorant about some other subjects. She did not know at first what a Patronus was. Nor that there were werewolves or many other magical creatures. She did not grasp references to teachers or places, nor even what those four Hogwarts houses were all about.

As a result she had spent even more time her nose deep into all the books at her disposal, and her mind was filled with even more questions. Harry always patiently answered her whenever he was able to, but Ron tended to make fun of her bookish attitude and sometimes they clashed. He was mainly calling her a bossy bookworm, while Hermione simply felt incredibly frustrated not having the answers to all her questions.

It was even more annoying to know that the Dark Lord probably would have been able to answer to all of them. This simple fact, this simple concession to his brilliance, always made her feel the urge to punch something.

Harry's secret duel club had allowed her to meet many different people. Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Neville Longbottom, Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner, Lee Jordan, Hannah Abbot, Angelina Johnson and Fred and George Weasley who were also half-bloods or blood traitors. But also some pure-bloods such as Susan Bones, Terry Boot, Cho Chang, Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell, Padma and Parvati Patil. As well as, to Hermione's utmost stupefaction, Daphne Greengrass, the Minister of Magic's daughter, and Blaise Zabini, whose mother was a reckoned figure among the Magical Alliance politicians.

All were part of the rebellion, even though none of them knew exactly what the others were doing. Hermione had come to understand that Ron and especially Harry were among those who knew the most. They regularly attended meetings of this Order of the Phoenix, the core part of the rebellion, with many other people whom Hermione knew nothing about, for her safety and especially for the rebels' safety.

"Aren't you worried about Daphne and Blaise?" Hermione had asked after meeting them for the first time.

"I'm sure they will backstab us at some point," Ron had answered resentfully.

"Padma and Susan vouched for Daphne, and Daphne for Zabini," Harry said. "They are very useful as they can gather important information for us, but it is true that for the moment we only tell them the minimum."

"Isn't it suspicious that you are hosting such large meetings in your home?"

"We always change the day and the time. And as you may have noticed the same people never came at the same time, and never with the same means."

"But what if one of you gets caught? Wouldn't it comprise the safety of everyone else?"

Harry and Ron had looked bitter, and Hermione had realized that she was missing something.

"If someone gets caught, he'll spill everything under torture or Legilimency and you're all going to get caught, aren't you?" she asked for confirmation.

"Yes…" Ron answered. "The ones that are not officially part of the Order do not know who is really part of it, but it won't be enough to protect us. If anyone gets caught, we will have to go into hiding."

"Yes indeed, I remember that you have explained me what to do if the emergency signal is triggered," Hermione nodded. "You're lucky that no one has been caught yet..."

Harry's face went pale and Hermione knew she had just made a blunder.

"Has any of you ever been caught?" she asked unsteadily.

"Caught no, but killed yes," Ron replied darkly. "Cedric Diggory. He was supposed to do a safe mission, but he ended up facing Bellatrix Lestrange. It was an unfair fight to begin with..."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said. "I didn't want to bring up painful memories."

"It's not your fault," Harry said dismissively. "It's just a bit too fresh in our minds. It happened on Christmas Eve this year..."

Hermione remembered the Dark Lord's wrath the days that followed Christmas and she shuddered. If Cedric Diggory had been caught alive, it would probably have been the end of the rebels.

oOoOoOo

Harry got to his feet and drew closer to Minerva McGonagall. It was mid-March and the end of a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix, and he had just remembered Hermione's request when she had joined them.

"Professor, may I ask you something?"

"Of course Harry."

"By any chance would you have one of these books: " _Ptolemy's Methodology_ ", or " _Magical Flows Theory_ "?"

"Have you started to study Pure Magic Harry?" McGonagall asked curiously.

"No, it's not for me, it's for Hermione," Harry said. "She would have liked to read them."

Minerva McGonagall looked at him thoughtfully.

"These are quite advanced books," she answered. "I should be able to find " _Magical Flows Theory_ " for you, but " _Ptolemy's Methodology_ "… The book itself is nearly legendary. Albus had a copy of it somewhere, I think, but that's only one of those things that have disappeared with him."

His former Transfiguration professor sadly shook her head, and Harry felt particularly uncomfortable. He had barely known Albus Dumbledore himself, but the mage had been – and still was – so respected by the older members of the Order that it was intimidating. He had been the last one to openly oppose Voldemort, even though a large part of his close friends were slowly getting caught, until he too felt into one of the Dark Lord's traps.

"Do you need anything else Harry?" McGonagall asked, her strict face impassive anew.

"Hermione would have also liked to learn Occlumency."

"I don't know if he will take another student," McGonagall sighed.

Harry winced. McGonagall was undoubtedly referring to the catastrophic lessons he had had with Snape when McGonagall and Remus had decided it would be safer to have a third point of contact for Snape just in case. Hogwarts Magical Aura test at the 7th year's end had designated Harry as the most propitious candidate, Occlumency being a difficult discipline, but he and Snape had needed months to be able to collaborate properly together.

"He has no reason to hate Hermione Professor," he argued.

"Indeed. I'll try to talk to him about it then, but I cannot promise you anything Harry."

"I know Professor, and I thank you all the same."

oOoOoOo

"You haven't changed your mind about learning Occlumency, have you?" Harry asked Hermione a few days later.

"Of course not!" Hermione answered, raising her head from her book.

"Great. I can introduce you to someone who can teach you, but you won't be able to leave this house until your training will be completed."

"I am not able to leave this house anyway," Hermione commented.

Harry looked embarrassed and made a sheepish smile.

"Sorry, I kind of forgot," he apologized. "I should also add that you must not talk about this person to anyone."

"Except you, I suppose?"

"Except me. But it would be even better if you don't talk about him at all."

Hermione refrained herself from asking why, knowing that she will probably understand fast enough anyway.

"As long as I can learn Occlumency," she agreed.

"Let's introduce you to him then."

"He's here?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, he's in the attic."

"The only place where you don't let anyone because it contains all the souvenirs you still have from your parents?" she said ironically.

Harry nodded his approval and invited her to follow him. They climbed up two storeys, and from the second floor Harry conjured a small ladder to climb to the attic. He went first, and Hermione went after him. She had barely negotiated the passage from the ladder to the floor, when she noticed who was there and nearly felt back into the hole.

"You?" she blurted out.

"Professor Snape is an expert in Occlumency and Legilimency," Harry said.

"Yeah, I suppose you should be to hide your meetings with the rebels from the Dark Lord," Hermione commented thoughtfully.

"Exactly Miss Granger. Now Potter let us work," Professor Snape said dismissively.

Harry rolled his eyes and began climbing down the ladder, with an encouraging wink to Hermione. He was clearly not getting along well with Severus Snape.

"Well, Miss Granger, come closer, don't waste my time," Snape ordered briskly.

Hermione noticed that he had talked to her with much more deference when she was still Voldemort's apprentice, or more accurately, Voldemort's prisoner. She gritted her teeth and walked over to him, gathering in her head what she knew about the man. Inner circle's Death Eater. Hogwarts Headmaster. Feared both by the lower ranked Death Eaters and by the rebels.

"You have already shown me that you are not completely ignorant about Legilimency, haven't you Miss Granger?"

"Because I haven't looked directly into your eyes when we met the first time?"

"Indeed," he trailed. "A good reflex, even if it could not be used as an effective defensive technic of course. But I can assure you, only few wizards are powerful enough to master Legilimency. And only a handful of them can do it without using their wands to cast the spell."

"The Dark Lord has told me so, even if he has refused to teach me Legilimency and Occlumency."

Severus Snape seemed to tense at her remark - was it her reference to the Dark Lord? - before nodding in a dry motion.

"Two techniques to protect yourself against Legilimency. The first one is the easiest: focus on a memory, or simply empty your head. You can learn it quickly, but your opponent will know immediately that you are trying to protect yourself. The second one is more complex. You'll need to hide most of your thoughts, leaving only some unimportant ones on the surface to mislead your opponent. Even if you were talented enough to learn it, you will need years to master it."

His tone was slightly contemptuous, but Hermione was not offended. There were far less Cruciatus curses on the rebels' side than on the Dark Lord's one, and she did not care if Severus Snape was unpleasant as long as he taught her Occlumency.

"Which one will you teach me?" she asked.

"The first technique is not efficient when the other side won't hesitate to torture you. I will try to teach you the second one, without making it perfect. Your goal will not be to hide all your thoughts, but to hide the most important ones behind those that are less important. A targeted attack will shatter your defence, but if there is something your opponent doesn't know he won't be able to find it."

"Will I be able to hide my involvement with the rebels to the Dark Lord then?"

"Don't be pretentious," Snape replied acidly. "The Dark Lord is the best Legilimens in Europe. At best you will be able to hide few selected memories."

Hermione frowned but did not answer. She needed to protect her own mind, even scarcely.

"But to start, we'll practice the first technique," Snape said. "If I feel you are not… talented enough for the mind arts, there would be no point to continue and I will erase your memory of this encounter."

He raised his wand and Hermione barely had time to think about a memory before feeling the intrusion in her head.

When she finished her session with the Hogwarts Headmaster two hours later, she had a painful headache, and she felt like she had not progressed in the least. But Severus Snape had promised to return the following week, the day of the spring equinox, and it was already a small victory.

oOoOoOo

The 21st of March 1999, Voldemort was in a very bad mood. He was in Peru with the other magi to celebrate the equinox eve, and the only person he wanted to talk to was obviously late. One day, in a few years, when he would have progressed even further in his quest for immortality, he would hunt them down. And he would take great pleasure in their long agony. But he could not yet risk an alliance against him.

With a bored look he watched the stupid charms demonstration Antonio Ibanez del Campo was putting up to try to impress Alexandra Rostov. The witch's gaze was as disdainful as his, and Voldemort's opinion of her improved a little.

Distractedly, he wondered what Hermione would have thought of these charms. She was so interested by the practical limits of magic… He would probably have needed to diminish her enthusiasm, explaining her that Antonio, this conceited idiot, was merely bluffing. But still, his spells' architecture would have interested her. Of all the subjects she had come across, it was unquestionably spells architecture that had attracted her the most.

When Voldemort realized that he was again thinking about Hermione Granger, his anger rose and his glass of wine exploded in his hand.

"The glass is not really responsible for any problem your despicable person has come across you know," Alexandra Rostov hissed in an acidic voice.

In the blink of an eye, Voldemort pulled out his wand and the witch's hair ignited violently.

"Don't provoke me Alexandra. I may be unable to murder you, but I would gladly kill another one of your lovers," he answered coldly, as she tried in vain to extinguish the Fiendfyre in her hair.

"I see that this evening's atmosphere is excellent."

Voldemort did not turn over to the newcomer immediately, the magical aura having just appeared being quite familiar to him. He waited for Alexandra Rostov to throw a last glare at him, and then turned slowly to the mage he had been waiting for. For far too long.

"Asma," he snapped as a greeting.

"You wanted to talk to me about some Egyptian artifacts, didn't you?"

"Let's go somewhere else," Voldemort confirmed.

He needed Asma Bacaffa to track down the amulet he was looking for, but he had no desire to share his research with any other mage. Without a single glance at the other participants of the evening, Voldemort triggered a tornado with the tip of his wand, and Apparated before witnessing its effects, knowing that Asma would know perfectly well where to find him. And perhaps the other wizard would even manage to get the irritating Mudblood out of his head for a few moments.

oOoOoOo

Early April an unexpected event disrupted Hermione's good cohabitation with Harry and Ron in Godric's Hollow.

Hermione was preparing their diner when she suddenly stilled. The front door had just opened and she could indistinctly hear Harry and Ron's voices, but that was not what had alerted the young witch. Even from the kitchen she could feel a very specific magic escorting Harry and Ron. A magic that froze her to the core. A magic she had not felt for a month.

Grabbing her wand firmly, she moved quickly to the living room. Half hidden behind the sofa, she opened the door by a silent "Alohomora" and peeked in the vestibule. Harry and Ron seemed alone, quite happy, and absolutely not on their guard.

Hermione was going to shout to them to be careful when she realized that the fraction of the Dark Lord's magic she was feeling seemed to be coming from Harry. She remained for a moment rooted to the spot, her heart beating wildly, not knowing what to do. Could it be possible that Harry was possessed? She had no other logical explanation...

"I hope Hermione has prepared something to eat, I'm starving!" Ron said as he took off his cloak.

"You're always starving," Harry commented. "And Hermione's probably still reading some dusty books in the living room!"

Hermione snorted indignantly behind the sofa, and she felt her hands start to shake. Harry did not seem to be possessed at all. But the powerful magical aura that surrounded him could not be mistaken with any other. None of the two young men had noticed her yet and Hermione knew that if she wanted to act she might not have a better chance afterwards.

"Stupefy!" she casted, suddenly coming out of her hiding place.

Her spell went straight to Harry, but the dark haired wizard, as if alerted by a sixth sense, narrowly avoided it. A moment later he pulled out his wand and faced Hermione.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry said.

"Protego!" Hermione countered.

In the meantime Ron had pulled out his wand too and Hermione dipped back behind one of the armchairs. She held a frustrated grunt. She was not yet trained enough to duel Harry. And duelling Harry and Ron together was clearly out of her league.

"Expulso," Hermione said, aiming again at Harry.

"Hermione!" Ron scolded indignantly.

"He's possessed Ron!" Hermione answered.

But she had to bounce back behind another piece of furniture in the living room as Harry attacked her again.

"What?" Ron asked, a little confused for a moment. "No he isn't!"

"Hermione stop immediately!" Harry ordered.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Hermione called out.

"Bombarda!" Harry replied immediately.

The spell impacted Hermione's shoulder and she was thrown back, screaming in pain.

"Diffindo!" she replied. "Only if you give Ron your wand!"

Harry avoided her spell with a smooth motion and it slashed the portrait of one of his ancestors who screamed indignantly.

"I'm not possessed!" Harry replied.

He threw her a spell she did not know and Hermione avoided it only by letting herself fall on the floor, rudely hitting her left elbow in the process.

"Stupefy! Ron, help me! He has the Dark Lord's aura all around him!"

"The ring!" Ron answered without any logic.

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance. Harry plunged his left hand into one of his pockets and threw something at Hermione. She fluidly avoided the object, and observed it as it crashed on the ground. She immediately pointed her wand on it.

The Dark Lord's aura she had been feeling from the beginning oozed from that object, both familiar and threatening. She approached slightly and noticed that it was a black stone set on a gold ring. She took another step forward, strangely drawn to the object, before picking herself up and turning to Harry and Ron.

"What is this?" she asked carefully.

"One of the Dark Lord's Horcruxes," Harry sighed.

"Horcruxes?" Hermione repeated.

She had never heard the term before, and Ron and Harry explained it reluctantly. The soul splitting, murdering process to ensure some kind of immortality.

"He's immortal?" Hermione said, horrified, at the end of their explanation. "Seriously?"

Why on earth did this overpowered wizard have to find a way to become immortal? It was not like it would have been easy to overthrow him even without it! And seeing the upset expressions of Harry and Ron they were probably thinking the same thing as her.

"How did you manage to get your hands on this one?" Hermione asked. "He should have hid them very carefully."

"Not really," Harry answered. "He believes that nobody knows about this, and without Dumbledore, we would never have been able to connect him to the Gaunt anyway."

"The Gaunt?"

"A very old wizarding family, some descendants of Salazar Slytherin. The Dark Lord is the son of Merope Gaunt," Ron completed.

"Ah, so you knew exactly from where the Dark Lord came from!" Hermione said accusingly, pointing to Harry.

He gave her an apologetic smile, which she greeted with a falsely offended expression.

"Yes, but as I said, rare are those who know. The Dark Lord was born the 31st of December 1926, and named Tom Marvolo Riddle. He is the son of Merope Gaunt, who died while giving birth, and Tom Riddle, a muggle Merope loved and drugged to have him love her back."

"A muggle?" Hermione choked.

"Yes, a mere muggle..." Ron answered. "He was murdered by the Dark Lord when he was still a teenager. Probably to create this Horcrux."

Hermione looked at the ring still lying on the floor. The magic around it was captivating and she had to keep a grip on herself not to touch it. It was a shame such powerful magic was yielded by such a selfish person…

"And how do you plan to get rid of it?" Hermione asked finally.

"By the only mean we have at the moment: a Fiendfyre," Harry replied.

"What? Are you insane? It's incredibly dangerous!"

It was almost impossible to control a Fiendfyre once it was launched.

"Not here obviously. We'll take care of it tomorrow, with a little help from other Order members," Ron explained with a satisfied smile on his lips. "This is the first one we have ever found."

"We were not 100 per cent sure it was a Horcrux, but your reaction proves us right. Thank you for the good news," Harry said with a smile.

"And for the new living room decoration," Ron added.

Hermione reddened with shame when she looked around the living room, devastated by their spells.

"Sorry," she said piteously.

"Don't worry," Harry answered. "This day marks our first big breakthrough since forever, and nothing will spoil it!"

oOoOoOo

 **AN:** See you in two weeks!


	15. Chapter 15

Hello,

As usual, a big thank you to everyone who follows this story, and especially to all those who leave reviews (over 100 now, I am so happy!).

I hope you will enjoy the chapter below.

Have a nice day,

Perhentian

oOoOoOo

 **Chapter 15 - April - August 1999**

The months of April and May passed slowly, almost painfully. The Dark Lord's Horcrux had been destroyed as planned, and the ring was now carefully hidden in the house. Ron had chosen the container, Hermione had made the wards, and Harry had hidden everything in a location only he knew. The evening afterwards they had celebrated the event over a glass of wine, comfortably seated in the living room. Neville, Fred and George had joined them, being keen on sharing the good mood even if they did not know the cause.

But after that, the rebels struggled to progress any further, as if Fate had decided that the destruction of one Horcrux was already enough for them. Firstly, they soon noticed that the government had decided to fight more drastically against their actions. During one of their raids to try to free some of the enslaved Muggle-borns, Harry and Ron had witnessed the long, painful agony of two young children when they tried to cross the wards of the manor where they were enslaved. They had then learned that escaping was now punished by death.

When Harry and Ron had come home that night, their ashen faces had immediately made Hermione tense. And the reality of what they had experienced had been far more painful to assimilate. Even now, the two young men were terribly angry with themselves for not having detected the curse in time.

On top of that, and despite their dedication to the task, they had not been able to lay their hands on any other Horcrux. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were desperately trying to find a place related to the Dark Lord's childhood, but their research had been in vain for now. They knew he had grown up in an orphanage but could not find which one. And if Harry and Ron had started to visit all the orphanages in England, it was a very tedious task that had not yet been met with success.

As for Hermione, she felt utterly useless. She was stuck at Godric's Hollow, while Harry and Ron were able to get out and act. She had finished all the books in the little library long ago, and she felt idle. Harry had put her in touch with Minerva McGonagall - he must have been tired of always asking for new books on her behalf - but the Hogwarts Deputy Headmistress was not in the position to send to Hermione as many books as the young witch would have wished.

Unable to satisfy her need to feel useful by reading as many books as possible, Hermione had started to practice even more her Occlumency, and also the exercises of "Ptolemy's Methodology". The first discipline to finally get out of Godric's Hollow and help Harry and Ron. And the second one in hope not only to increase her sensitivity to magic, but also to practice wandless spells. She was determined to never again feel as helpless as she had felt when she had been deprived of her wand by the Dark Lord.

Although her progress with wandless magic was absolutely non-existent, her Occlumency was progressing relatively well. Severus Snape may be quite spiteful, but she could not deny that he knew what he was talking about.

oOoOoOo

End of May Severus Snape finally declared that Hermione was good enough at Occlumency to go out of Godric's Hollow. Of course, his exact wording was more something like "despite your obvious lack of talent for this discipline, you still managed to put yourself on Potter's level, even if it is not something I would boast about if I was you."

As she had also used May's month to learn how to Apparate - with the help of Harry and Ron, but also Fred and George Weasley who seemed to enjoy Apparating even for few meters - she finally felt free. And if the mood of her two roommates was still particularly gloomy, hers was slightly better.

Disregarding Harry's and Ron's disapproval, the first thing she did after mastering Occlumency was to Apparate into Muggle London, not far from her home. She had put on an old pair of jeans and a sweater, had her hair dyed in a lighter shade and had even slightly changed the shape of her face, making it rounder and more childish.

She walked the few streets leading to her home calmly, and stopped as soon as her house was in sight. The street she had seen on the newspaper extract a month and a half earlier had been cleaned, but the various houses had not. Her heart sank as she looked at the exploded walls and the darkened interiors.

She stared at her childhood street for a few minutes. So many innocent people had been killed to satisfy the Dark Lord's thirst for vengeance. Tears ran down Hermione's cheeks before she could hold them back. She had played on this sidewalk. Run along this fence. Drank tea in this house.

She finally wiped her tears away, before resolutely leaving in the opposite direction. She could do nothing for the dead. And if she did not know where her parents were, Harry had confirmed her that they were hidden somewhere safe outside of the Magical Alliance. She wandered slowly through London streets, completely anonymous among the Muggles, before coming across an internet café.

She stopped in front of the window and hesitated, before entering. She did not have any Muggle money on her, so she cast a confusing spell on the clerk holding the cash register, a little ashamed of herself. She then slipped behind a computer, apprehensively entered her query, and scanned the results.

"Dr. Alford found unconscious 12 days after his disappearance."

"No after-effect discovered for Dr. Alford following his abduction, except for the loss of his memory regarding the events."

"An investigation is ongoing regarding the disappearance of Dr. Alford, a renowned surgeon, who mysteriously reappeared..."

Hermione stared at the screen, amazed by what she saw. She could not believe that the Dark Lord had not killed the doctor. Unless it was just Tyler Greengrass who had decided to release him rather than kill him? Knowing that she would probably never have the answers to her questions, Hermione was about to close the session, before stopping, smiling broadly at the computer.

oOoOoOo

"Harry, if she's not back in fifteen minutes we'll need to start looking for her!" Ron said.

Harry sighed, nervously running his hand through his hair, messing it even more than it already was. He had not felt at ease when Hermione had left, but now that she had been away for more than three hours, he was downright anxious. And Ron too.

"Ron, how do you want to find her in the Muggle world?" he said with fatality.

"She may have had a problem next to her parents' house. You know the address, don't you?" Ron retorted.

"Yes, I do" Harry agreed.

They exchanged a worried look. If Hermione had fallen into any trap, it was particularly unsafe to try to help her. But it was out of the question for them to let the girl fend for herself.

"We shouldn't have let her go alone," he commented.

Just at the very moment, they heard the characteristic sound of Apparition and they rushed into the entrance hall, the only place where it was possible to Apparate from outside. Harry hoped it was Hermione and not a full squad of Death Eaters, and he was deeply relieved when he recognized the girl.

"What the fuck took you so long?" Ron immediately shouted.

The smile on Hermione's lips was not affected in the least. Calmly, she pulled out of one of her pockets a little notebook she handed them.

"What's this?" Harry asked.

"A copy of all the interesting information about the childhood of a certain Tom Marvolo Riddle when he was a resident at Wool's Orphanage."

"You have found the place?" Ron wondered, completely incredulous.

"Not exactly no. The orphanage was destroyed by bombs at the end of the Second World War," Hermione answered. "But I located the Muggle archives related to orphans, and then I visited them. The orphanage may no longer exist, but I was able to access the files and they mentioned several school trips in specific places..."

"Hermione you're brilliant!" Ron appraised.

oOoOoOo

"Please, please, I beg you, please…"

The child at his feet whined and cried, but Lord Voldemort paid absolutely no attention to him. No, his whole attention was focused on a much more troublesome issue. One of his theories had just turned out to be incorrect. Neither the power nor the magic sensitivity of the Mudblood had anything to do with having spent more than eleven years protected by Dumbledore's wards.

It was the beginning of June, exactly six months days to days after he had casted the old coot's spell on three young Mudbloods, and he had just finished removing it for the last one of them. And nothing had happened. Their magical auras had not changed in the past six months, beyond their natural evolution. They were not more powerful. And none of these children seemed to have developed any sensitivity to magic.

The child whined louder, and Voldemort's disgruntled gaze focused on him.

"Crucio," he casted distractedly.

The screams immediately echoed in the little room where the child had been locked up for six months, and if these screams were more agreeable to Voldemort's ears than his previous lamentations, they did not help in any way the Dark Lord's thinking.

He had never particularly agreed with the theory that Mudbloods were inferior to pure-blood wizards. If he had based his rise to power on it, it was simply to benefit from the support of many influential pure-bloods. Whether it was during his schooling at Hogwarts, or even afterwards, he had met absolutely pathetic pure-bloods, and not so stupid Mudbloods. But to recognize that a Mudblood can stand out so much, and to still be alive for no other reason than pure luck...

And it was not really her power that made Voldemort wonder. After all, there were more powerful Mudbloods among the magi. No, it was rather that sensitivity to magic, the natural ease that Hermione Granger seemed to have to master pure magic, and the attraction between their two magical auras.

The sudden silence in the room caught the attention of the Dark Lord. At his feet the child no longer screamed and the spasms that agitated him no longer seemed to reach his empty eyes. Voldemort stopped his spell and left without looking back.

oOoOoOo

Hermione watched with unease the waves crashing on the rocks several dozen meters below. Harry and Ron were standing next to her, and they were all shivering due to the unusually cold breeze. Or perhaps due to the sinister atmosphere of the place. Hermione looked down one more time, but quickly averted her eyes. Merlin knew she did not like heights…

"Hermione?" Harry asked.

"It's coming from below," she answered.

Despite the cold wind, despite the deafening sound of the waves, it was a much more diffuse and weaker sensation that was frightening Hermione. Traces of dark and powerful magic that turned her insides to ice.

"Well, let's Apparate on a rock below then," Ron commented.

oOoOoOo

Hermione collapsed inelegantly on the living room couch.

"It's so unfair!" she fumed.

Harry and Ron answered with a growl and Hermione dropped her head on the edge of the sofa behind her. They had spent all their free time going through the places visited by the Dark Lord before finding the cliff. Then they had gone down. They had swum in the cold water. They had splashed all the walls with blood before they had managed to enter the cavern. Inside they had again lost several hours, trying to find how to go on the island in the middle of the underground lake without triggering the Inferi's ire. Before attempting the extremely exhausting exercise of levitating each other to the centre.

Then the potion. They had tried everything. Spill it on the ground, drink it before spitting it out, make it evaporate. Other dozens of minutes of futile attempts, while they were already more than overtired. It was Ron who had come up with a solution. Hermione had initially vehemently contested, but ended up accepting as they had no other alternative. They had conjured a dog, and they had forced the poor beast to drink until the potion was finished. And despite the fact that a conjured animal was technically not quite alive, Hermione knew she would have nightmares of this event for days.

And all that for what? Nothing. They had only found a locket that was absolutely not a Horcrux, with a cryptic note inside:

"To the Dark Lord,

I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more.

R.A.B"

And now they were back, slumped in the living room of Godric's Hollow, tired, disappointed, not knowing who R.A.B. was or even if the real Horcrux had actually been destroyed. No more advanced than a few months ago, and quite angry at having lost their time.

oOoOoOo

Harry's, Ron's and Hermione's mood remained dark all June and July. They were stuck. For RAB. And for the other Horcruxes. They had no idea how many of them there were, what forms they could take, or where they might be.

But for Harry's birthday on Saturday the 31st of July, Hermione and Ron decided to brighten the mood. So they managed to discreetly enter into Harry's room, and crept up on Harry, still asleep in his bed.

"Attack him!" Ron said and they pounced.

"Aaaaahhh!" Harry yelled, rolling on the side to get his wand.

But Hermione and Ron were already on him. Harry struggled for a moment before realizing the identity of his attackers and starting to shout at them.

"You're insane!"

"Happy birthday!" Hermione said with a big smile.

"You bunch of idiots…" Harry grumbled. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Nop!" Ron answered, popping the p. "Hermione has turned the Dark Lord into a cockroach early this morning, the war is over, and it's all for your birthday!"

Harry's awkward growl proved that he did not really appreciate Ron's sense of humour. But it started the day on the right foot. Neville soon arrived to have lunch with them, along with Fred, George, and their younger sister Ginny. Then, as the evening was getting closer, other members of the rebellion joined them.

Molly Weasley brought enough food for all of them, and even more, and the twins several litres of butterbeer and firewhisky. Hermione drank a little more than she should have, and by the end of the evening she was laughing together with Lee Jordan, Daphne Greengrass and Luna Lovegood, who had finished Hogwarts a few weeks ago and whom Hermione usually found too lunatic for her taste.

Around midnight, everyone gradually bid goodbye and Harry hugged them all, thanking them warmly, obviously quite drunk. When only Harry, Ron, and Hermione were left, they shared a last drink in the living room, amid the empty bottles and the cake's leftovers. They were about to go to sleep when the chimney lit up and a tall brown man, with long hair, came out.

"Happy birthday Harry!" the man said.

"Sirius! What are you doing here?" Harry asked.

And in the blink of an eye he was in the arms of the other man, who burst into a raucous laugh reminding her of the barking of a dog as Hermione watched, stunned. A few minutes later, they all had a well-filled glass of firewhisky in their hands and chatted incoherently, the infamous Sirius Black seeming even less mature than Harry and Ron together, despite being 20 years older.

"Those months were so awful, so awful!" Sirius whined. "Frankly Japanese politicians are even worse than the English ones! I hate to play their stupid political games!"

"At least you haven't spent all your time visiting muddy places to track were the fuck the Dark Lord could have spent his youth," Ron retorted.

"But the politicians really have no sense of humour, not at all!" Sirius complained. "And I failed oh so many times!"

"Still better than us. We are currently trying to decipher what a stranger named R.A.B. could have done an object we absolutely need to find!" Harry said.

"Wait… R.A.B.?"

Sirius looked at them; his eyes wide open with shock.

"Do you know him?" Hermione asked, trying to sober up.

"It was my little brother. Regulus Arcturus Black."

The sound of Harry's glass crashing onto the floor perfectly reflected the amazement of the three friends.

oOoOoOo

Hermione checked everything once more. Her wand was neatly stored in her dress. Her hairband was in place in her hair. The emergency portkey was setup on the bracelet she wore around her wrist. Her cape with an embodied hiding charm was on her shoulders.

It was the very beginning of August, barely two days after Harry's birthday, and they had decided to try to infiltrate Bellatrix Lestrange's manor while she was at a meeting of Voldemort's inner circle Death Eaters. A meeting that, according to Severus Snape, will last several tedious hours.

All thanks to Sirius Black. After recovering from their surprise to discover that R.A.B. was most likely Sirius' deceased little brother, the end of the night was spent figuring out where the real Slytherin's locket could potentially be. They even spent two hours in the middle of the night searching Grimmauld Place from top to bottom.

It was Sirius again who had helped when they had not found anything. He had told them that the former house elf of Grimmauld Place, Kreacher, had stolen almost all the valuables from this place, bringing them to his cousin Bellatrix' manor, by the time Sirius finally kicked him out to prevent the house-elf from spying on him and the Order after the fall. Hermione had frowned at the lack of respect Sirius seemed to show for the elf.

And now Hermione was anxiously checking everything once more, for her first real mission for the rebellion. She was determined, but she could not stop her hands from shaking slightly with apprehension.

"Are you ready?" Remus Lupin asked as he entered the living room.

Hermione exchanged a quick look with Ron. It will only be Remus, Ron and her for this mission. Harry was dining in a very public place with Ginny Weasley, his girlfriend for two years now. Hermione nodded, followed a moment later by Ron.

"Then let's go."

Several chimney trips and two Apparitions later they found themselves at the limit of the anti-Apparition wards of the Lestrange manor. Infiltrating the manor went slowly, laboriously, but without any issue. And when they finally entered it, Hermione almost immediately felt the magic of the Dark Lord calling her. As always, this observation chilled her. She did not understand why she reacted so strongly to his magic, and was afraid to admit to herself that she felt fascinated by it, and that her only desire was to get closer to it, to feel it even more strongly.

A few moments later they seeped in a small, rather intimate room that seemed to be unused since ages. In front of them a display case contained various objects, and among them a locket perfectly similar to the one Hermione had in her bag. The Dark Lord's magic oozed from the locket, disturbing and captivating, and Hermione almost reached out to touch the locket before stopping herself.

The three wizards spent several minutes breaking the protective wards around the display case before finally opening it. Fortunately they did not need to try to disable the enchantments of the locket itself. Hermione knew that they would have never succeeded, even in ten years' time.

"Go ahead Hermione, exchange the lockets," Remus Lupin said softly.

"Wait a minute," Hermione answered in a whisper.

She focused intensely before performing complex wand movements around the fake locket. Suddenly, noises in the manor reached them. Hermione's wand shook slightly but she reached the end of her spell sequence despite the pang of anguish rising in her. Then she quickly exchanged the two objects.

"What have you done?" Ron asked hastily.

"I tried to imitate his magic. It's not really a great job, but it may help..."

"Let's go," Lupin murmured. "We'll talk when we will be safe."

They quickly left the room, rushed in the direction they had come from previously, their uneasiness raising with the sounds. Despite Hermione's fear, they managed to get out of the manor unscathed, and even to reach the limit of the protective wards.

Before forgetting about one of the wards and triggering an alarm.

"We Apparate away, now," Lupin ordered.

Hermione immediately turned on herself, focusing on her destination, but instead of disappearing she painfully hit a wall.

"Too late!" Ron commented. "We must move further away from the manor."

But they had barely moved when Bellatrix Lestrange materialized right in front of them. Hermione froze. She had already seen pictures of the witch. She had heard a lot about her and her legendary cruelty. And the smile she was currently displaying only added to the feeling that she was crazy. Mad. Insane. But what was the most obvious when looking at the witch's posture was her dangerousness. It was absolutely undeniable that Bellatrix Lestrange was a very talented duellist. Her magic was powerful without a doubt. Completely messy too. And downright terrifying.

"Well well well, what do we have here?" Bellatrix asked, in a high pitched voice. "Some rebels who wanted to break into my home?"

Before she even finished Remus Lupin sent her a Stupefy. Bellatrix avoided it with an impressive dexterity.

"The little rebel wants to measure himself with the big bad guys?" the Death Eater taunted Remus Lupin disdainfully. "Crucio!"

Hermione recovered from her panic and attacked with Ron's help as Remus Lupin dipped to the side.

"Diffindo!" Hermione casted.

A totally unknown spell flew towards her the next moment and Hermione avoided it with a jump.

"Stupefy!" she shouted.

"Impedimenta, Expelliarmus!" Ron added next to her.

Bellatrix deflected their spells with a wave of her hand, before retaliating.

"Enflamare!"

Hermione avoided it with another jump, absolutely terrified by this spell. She had seen what it had done to Fenrir Greyback and it was not something she was looking for.

"Diffindo!" Bellatrix casted.

Hermione did not have the time to protect herself and the spell made a painful notch in her left shoulder.

"Expulso," she responded as Ron and Remus Lupin also casted their own spells.

Bellatrix moved smoothly before throwing them more spells. Her fighting style had something of the Dark Lord's one. Less impressive, less perfected, but there were nevertheless some similarities, and the same lethality. Bellatrix undoubtedly knew how to fight. A Cruciatus hit Ron who fell to the ground screaming.

"Praemio!" Hermione said.

Bellatrix would not be able to maintain her Cruciatus curse while avoiding her expulsion spell, too powerful for a classic shield. And indeed she freed Ron, but in the blink of an eye a new curse hit Hermione despite her Protego Maxima and she felt to the ground crying in pain. It was not a Cruciatus, but she felt like her whole body was burning from inside, and she screamed without being able to stop herself.

She was rescued by Remus Lupin, who quickly sent some spells to Bellatrix, and at the same time cancelled the one who was torturing Hermione. Bellatrix seemed to be playing with him, and when Remus Lupin sent her a particularly well-aimed Expelliarmus, Hermione saw her cast the sirenean charm, recognizable by its violet reflections.

"Watch out!" she shouted.

But luckily Remus Lupin managed to avoid his own spell when it bounced back. Ron got up, and Hermione tried to do the same despite the pain. Her two companions were struggling in vain to pierce the shield of the Death Eater, who was cackling madly. Hermione pointed her wand resolutely towards Bellatrix. She waited for an opportunity, holding her breath.

"Confundo!" she finally shouted with all her strength.

Bellatrix's shield collapsed, and the confusion spell hit her straight in the chest. Remus Lupin took advantage of it to cast a darkness charm, and they fled the place as fast as possible.

oOoOoOo

Voldemort watched Bellatrix with boredom. And a subdued anger.

"My Lord, how may I serve you?" she asked with an obsequious voice.

"Have you found anything about the rebels?"

Bellatrix paled at his question, and his anger rose. The witch hesitation was very clear, and she opened her mouth before closing it again without any sound coming out.

"Bella..." Voldemort said threateningly.

Anyone else would already be suffering under a Cruciatus, and Voldemort pondered for a moment over the fact that he was far too lenient with her. Especially knowing her recent failures.

"Some rebels tried to break into my house last night," Bellatrix said.

"And why are they not in my cells being currently tortured?"

Bellatrix shifted uncomfortably, and Voldemort was on the edge of torturing her.

"My Lord... I... They… There were three of them and I was alone."

It was so pathetic that even Bellatrix looked ashamed by her own words.

"Have my trainings been useless Bellatrix? So useless that you are not even capable to defeat three random wizards?" he said coldly.

"Please forgive me, my Lord."

"I do not forgive Bellatrix," Voldemort said, casually pointing his wand at her.

"I was using the sirenean charm, my Lord," Bellatrix said hurriedly. "One of them knew it, my Lord; one of them sent me a confusion spell. I thought only your most loyal knew."

Voldemort froze. Bellatrix was wrong, not only his most loyal knew about the sirenean charm, anyone graduating from the University knew. But it was not common knowledge, far from it.

"Look at me," he ordered curtly.

He immersed himself into Bellatrix's mind. And immediately he spotted her. Bellatrix opponents all wore a hood, but it was simple to recognize her wine wand. She had improved, and he was almost fascinated by her easiness to dance between the spells, responding with charms she must have learned after escaping.

He was disappointed however when he saw her getting struck by Bellatrix' Ignotus curse. The end of the fight was better, and he was truly impressed by the strength of her confusion spell. Even in Bellatrix' memory he could still feel the magic of her spell, and this was unusual.

Voldemort stepped out of Bellatrix's mind and aimed at his Death Eater with his wand. He was furious. She should have been able to defeat them easily. The first two certainly knew how to duel, but they were not exceptional either. And Hermione's fight had been full of small blunders that Bellatrix should have used against her. If she had been better, he would finally have had rebels in his cells, rebels that would have confessed everything…

"Crucio," he casted.

He stared at her for a long time as she trashed ungracefully on the floor, and lifted his spell only when she was on the verge of losing consciousness.

"Bella, do not disappoint me anymore."

"I won't, my Lord," Bellatrix answered hastily, catching her breath.

As soon as he was alone once more, Voldemort absently ran his fingers over his desk, completely immersed in his thoughts. He had been able to perceive the magical auras of all people and all objects around him since he was a child, even before starting Hogwarts. He was more than used to feeling them and assessing them. But Hermione Granger's magical aura was something else, he perceived it with a sharpness that should not be possible.

He stood up, unveiled the access to his personal library with a sharp gesture, and walked briskly into it. He scanned the bookcases, eventually stopping in front of a specific shelf. He slid his fingers over the edge of several books, before finding the one he was looking for. It was a dusty book with a thick leather binding. A few moments later he found the paragraph he had been thinking of.

" _Many theories were made to try to explain the sheer magical power of Merlin and Viviane. Some believed they were soulmates. Nothing could have been more untrue. Only power had managed to bring together Merlin and Viviane. Their devouring ambition had allowed an alliance, where many others in the same situation had destroyed each other, such as Horus and Set..._ "

Voldemort raised his head. Seth's amulet. He had thought of the ankh of Isis, or the golden feather of Nephthys' falcon, but it now seemed obvious that it could only be Seth's amulet that Morgana Le Fay had sought. He had even seen and manipulated the amulet himself a long time ago, without knowing it would prove to be so useful.

A satisfied smile spread the lips of the Dark Lord. He needed only two things to make sure his power over the world would never be challenged. Seth's amulet and Hermione Granger. And he knew where to start looking for the first, and how to get hold of the second.

oOoOoOo

 **AN:** Thank you very much for reading. Next chapter in two weeks.


	16. Chapter 16

Dear all,

Thank you very much for your wonderful reviews for the last chapter. They made my day :)

I hope you will like this new chapter.

Have a nice day,

Perhentian

oOoOoOo

 **Chapter 16 - August 1999**

Paying close attention to the slightest noise Hermione followed Harry and Ron between the trees. The trees' shadows seemed strangely foreboding, and the wind rustling the tress leaves made them even more threatening. Even with the wind, the air was hot and heavy. It was a typical August afternoon, beautiful, but too hot and too quiet. And despite their discretion spells it felt as if they were terribly noisy, disturbing the woods calmness. It felt sacrilegious.

However the rebels did not really have the choice. Many of them were now surrounding the Carrow's manor, but their numbers only made Hermione more anxious. Because it was only another proof of the dangerousness of what they were about to do. There would definitely be Death Eaters inside the manor. And they did not know how much. Maybe even some inner circle Death Eaters would be there.

All the rebels had been eager to come since they decided to act. An unhealthy eagerness. And Hermione had a bad feeling about this whole operation. She knew they needed to come. She knew they did not have the choice. She knew that the stakes were too important not to act. But it was also incredibly dangerous, and she knew it may be a trap.

"It'll be fine!" Harry said.

But he did not seem convinced at all, and Hermione looked at him dubiously. This mission would not go well; there was no way for it to go well. Too many people were involved. Remus Lupin, a good part of the Weasley, Susan Bones, Padma and Parvati Patil, Minerva McGonagall, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Katie Bell, and even other members of the Order that Hermione had met for the first time that very morning.

They were going to infiltrate the manor in broad daylight, hoping that the Death Eaters would not expect such a bold move. It would probably be their only advantage. Even Snape had not been able to help them. All his attempts to find out more information in recent days had failed. He did not know who was coordinating the initiative on the Death Eaters side. The Dark Lord had not spoken about it during the last meetings. Only rumours among the members of the first two Death Eater circles had provided them some information.

Finally Harry, Ron and Hermione reached their destination, north of Carrow Manor. Harry pointed his wand at the bracelet around his wrist and sent a message indicating that they were in position. All the other rebels involved would receive it thanks to a protean charm.

"It's a bad idea to infiltrate the manor. A very bad idea," Hermione murmured.

She fiddled with her wand nervously, and only stopped when Ron grabbed her hands. She lifted her head and met the young man's determined gaze. He gave her an incredibly warm smile. A smile nearly powerful enough to make all her worries disappear.

"We'll stay together, and we'll all be ok," he said.

His voice was much more convincing than Harry's, and Hermione managed to smile back at him. Ron had this warm side that had always managed to reassure her, and the feeling of his hands holding hers slightly appeased Hermione. They looked at each other for a few seconds, and she thought for a moment that he was going to kiss her, but he finally released her hands and drew away. She felt a pang of disappointment, but shoved that thought away and focused on the surroundings again.

Long minutes passed, and none of the three friends spoke during that time. They knew that Remus Lupin, Minerva McGonagall and Kingsley Shacklebolt had to be creating breaches in the protective wards. From what Hermione had understood, the wards here were quite basic, and again she had that feeling that it was too convenient to be a mere coincidence.

Suddenly, the bracelet on her wrist warmed and Hermione quickly read the message written on it. "Start". Hermione's heart began to beat frantically in her chest, but she also felt her resolve increase. There was no longer a choice, and she could only do her best to have this mission succeeding.

Ron and Hermione renewed their disillusionment charms, sewing it together, and Harry disappeared under his invisibility cloak. All three headed unhesitatingly towards the mansion. If Hermione could see and follow Ron, only Harry's light touches allowed the other two to make sure of his presence. So when they arrived unhindered near the small side door they were to enter, Ron and Hermione waited to feel a slight pressure on their shoulders before raising their wands. Few spells later, they were inside the manor.

oOoOoOo

Voldemort was in his study, deep in discussion with Tyler Greengrass, when few notes ringed in a corner of his head. He was for a moment slightly taken aback – he had not thought that the rebels would dare to do anything in broad daylight – before fluidly getting up, interrupting Tyler in the middle of his sentence.

It had not been very difficult to lure the rebel fighters. Ridiculously easy even. It had only needed a simple rumour spreading among the Death Eaters. A rumour saying that he was about to execute several dozens of Mudbloods at Carrow Manor. No public announcement, a simple well controlled leak of information to selected Death Eaters, and few transfers of Mudbloods to the Carrow Manor seen by the right eyes.

And nobody knew it was a trap. None of his Death Eaters. And neither had they known that he had added his own wards around the manor, dissimulated in the current clumsy enchantments. The past year had proven once again that he could only rely on himself if he wanted the things done. And if before he had not deemed the rebels worth of his time, his readings the last few days had given him a good reason to personally go after them.

Without apologizing to Tyler, Voldemort disguised his aura and immediately Apparated near the Carrow Manor. It only took him few seconds to detect many unknown magical auras in the manor. And one he knew very well. Hermione Granger. He felt more satisfied than he had ever been in the past years. He had not been sure that the Mudblood would be present. This trap was setup primarily to capture some rebels, and to use them to track down Hermione. But the presence of the girl would allow him to move faster.

Discreetly he played with Hermione's aura, knowing that she did not master it sufficiently to be able to identify him. Her aura had not changed, still light and swirling, and Voldemort analysed it even more carefully now that he knew why he had always found her aura fascinating. He let a smile bloom on his lips. He was going to make good use of Hermione Granger.

With a movement of his wand he called to him his faithful followers.

oOoOoOo

Hermione stopped abruptly in the middle of the stairs, an icy chill descending down her back as dread gripped her heart.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, noticing that she had stopped. "Is something wrong?"

Hermione shook her head before answering.

"No, nothing… I thought I felt... but it's over now. I'm a little too nervous I think..."

She forced herself to make a reassuring smile in the direction from where Harry's voice was coming, but all her body stayed tensed.

oOoOoOo

Lord Voldemort waited for a few minutes, granting his followers the time to gather, and the rebels the time to penetrate much deeper into the manor. Then, when there were enough of them in front of him, he slowly turned his attention to them, a cruel smile playing on his lips. He knew they were all wondering what they were doing here. During the last five years, he had not gathered all of them more than three or four times, including the incident in March. Those who knew the Carrow well enough must have recognized the manor, but the others could only speculate until he decided to share his genius with them.

"There are many rebels in this manor," he finally said.

There were shivers among the ranks of his Death Eaters, and excited murmurs. He glanced at Bellatrix, who seemed to oscillate between the unhealthy appeal of the chase he was providing her and the fear that her master's interference in her business was a bad omen for her.

"I want them alive," he ordered.

He needed to make sure that at the end of the attack some rebels would remain alive enough to be interrogated, as most of his Death Eaters tended to torture to death, without thinking further ahead. Without thinking that having prisoners was far more useful than a bunch of corpses.

All nodded silently and waited for his signal. The yew wand performed complex movements none of his Death Eaters knew, and as the original wards of the manor were replaced by the Dark Lord's ones, he let out a satisfied laugh.

"The hunt is open," he announced cruelly.

His Death Eaters rushed forward. Lord Voldemort watched them move quickly towards the manor, and, focusing again on the magical auras, he easily located Hermione's and disappeared without a sound.

oOoOoOo

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had progressed in the manor according to plan, and they were now on the second floor, in what looked like a large dining room. They had not come across a living soul since the beginning, no Death Eaters, no militia, no Mudbloods, and Hermione was feeling more and more anxious. Should not there have been a lot more people in this manor if the rumours were true?

And suddenly, there was a shudder in the air around her and Hermione froze, her eyes bulging, her mouth half opened. The manor had just shaken around them. From a powerful vibration she had immediately recognized with dread.

"We need to get out!" she shouted. " _He_ 's here!"

"The Dark Lord?" Ron enquired.

"Yes," Hermione answered, her voice sharp with fear.

"I'm contacting the others," Harry said, his voice seeming to come out of nowhere.

While Harry must have been using his communicating bracelet to spell a warning message, Hermione scanned the surroundings frantically. If she could feel the Dark Lord's magic all around the mansion, she can not pinpoint exactly from where it was coming from. But she was not delusional; his presence did not bode well for the rebels.

"It's impossible to Apparate away," Ron announced. "And Portkeys are blocked also. We have to get out of the manor to flee."

The three friends exchanged a glance and rushed to the door. They had barely taken a few steps before the atmosphere suddenly seemed to be filled with a stifling and frightening magic, followed a moment later by the silent appearance of the Dark Lord himself. Hermione nearly let out an anguished scream in front of Voldemort's magical display, and she had to struggle to remain silent, hoping, without believing it, that their disillusionment charm will protect them. But the Dark Lord's gaze immediately fell on her, and she stepped back without being able to stop herself. His eyes followed her.

"Hello Hermione," the Dark Lord said casually. "It is a pleasure to see you again... although you are in quite bad company I must say."

Hermione tried to stay calm, despite wanting desperately to run away. It was highly unlikely that he had materialized in this room by coincidence. He had come for her, to kill her. And she was not ready to fight a duel against him. Not at all. She was shaking on the spot due to the mere presence of his powerful magic. She grasped her wand tighter, and looked straight into his eyes.

"I cannot really say I share your sentiment," she replied defiantly.

She noticed out of the corner of her eye that Ron had his wand stretched out in front of him, while Voldemort was holding his nonchalantly, as if they did not represent a real danger - which was certainly true, Hermione thought darkly. They had absolutely no chance to win this fight. They were all going to die.

Their only hope was Harry. He may be able to surprise Voldemort as he was still under his invisibility cloak. Hermione glanced around the room, but she had no idea where exactly he could be. She was going to say something to try to buy some time when Harry decided to act.

"Stupefy!"

Even if she was expecting it, Hermione almost jumped at Harry's sudden attack. But the Dark Lord deflected it with an almost distracted hand movement. His face had not expressed any surprise, and Hermione would think afterwards that he must have felt Harry's magical aura, even if it was lessened by the cloak.

Seeing her last hope being smashed to smithereens Hermione almost lost her footing. But she recovered almost instantly when she saw the Dark Lord slowly turn to Harry, and relegating her fear to the background, she focused on the fight.

"Obscuro," she casted.

Even before her spell started to work, she went on with a Stupefy and a tricky curse. But none of her spells reached its goal, and the next moment an unknown spell was heading towards her. She avoided it just in time and responded with a cutting spell at full strength, assisted by Ron and some spells seeming to come out of nowhere thrown by Harry.

But once again none of their attacks reached the Dark Lord and he smiled mockingly. Hermione glanced quickly behind her and assessed the living room windows, several meters above the garden. Far too far and far too high. At the last second she saw a cutting spell coming right on her and she jumped on the side, before turning to Voldemort, furious.

He was playing with them. She had seen him countless times cast the cutting spell without even a ray of light coming out of his wand. She had seen him countless times cast much more complex and vicious spells. He could finish this fight at any moment, before they even had time to blink, but he felt so much superior that he allowed himself to play with them. Like an animal with its food.

Inwardly, Hermione was simultaneously shaking with rage and fear. Because even knowing that he was playing with them, she saw no way out. No way to escape him. There was a shudder in the air and she felt her disillusionment charm fall, while seeing Ron silhouette appear far more clearly. Harry reappeared a moment later. Hermione wondered at his action, before realizing that he probably did not want to draw Voldemort's attention to his invisibility cloak. But the suspicious look the Dark Lord gave the young man made Hermione believe that he was not fooled.

Ron took advantage of it to try to breach the Dark Lord's anti-Apparition wards, but Voldemort noticed it immediately, and seemed furious that they were even trying to find a way out. A green light began to appear at the end of his wand, aimed at Ron.

Completely panicked, Hermione started to cast a charm that would build a brick wall in front of her friend, but Harry was faster than her and he threw himself resolutely between Ron and the Avada Kedavra, throwing his own spell.

"Expelliarmus!"

"No!" Hermione screamed, completely shocked by her friend's reckless move.

The two jet of light met in mid-air, and suddenly both Harry's and Voldemort's wands were vibrating. A narrow beam of light was now connecting the two wands, neither red nor green, but bright, deep gold. Everyone was taken aback by this phenomenon and Hermione almost dropped her wand in amazement.

oOoOoOo

Voldemort tightened his hold on his white yew wand and stared at the golden beam that connected the two wands. Before anyone had time to react, the thread splintered. Though the wands remained connected, a thousand more offshoots arced high over their heads, criss-crossing all around them, until Voldemort and his opponent were enclosed in a golden, dome-shaped web, a cage of light.

He watched from the corner of his eye Hermione and the redhead who was accompanying her trying to cast spells on the dome, without any result, and he frowned. He was analysing everything fast, trying to understand the strange phenomenon unfolding before his eyes. He attempted with a dry gesture to break the thread but it remained intact. Then, a phoenix song echoed in the room.

The animal being intrinsically associated with Dumbledore in his mind, Voldemort narrowed his eyes as anger was tracing a sure path through his emotions. If this phenomenon made him miss Hermione the boy in front of him will have a very long and very painful death. A boy that he was sure he had never met before, but who was looking vaguely familiar. Black unruly hair, green eyes, in association with some redhead.

"Harry Potter," Voldemort murmured to himself.

It was crazy in fact how much the young man looked like his father. He was going to kill Bellatrix. And Rookwood. And all the other people involved. The Weasley and Harry Potter should have been under close surveillance since last fall, and now they were right in front of him, the blood traitors, putting themselves in his way as their parents had done before them.

His wand began to vibrate more strongly and large beads of light appeared along the golden thread connecting the wands, oscillating between Harry Potter and him. Voldemort finally connected the phoenix song and the beads of light, and the realization hit him suddenly. Priori Incantatem. He had read the description of the phenomenon in an obscure treatise written by Ollivander - not the current one, one at least five generations ago - years ago.

He could still hear Hermione and the Weasley cast spells on the dome and try to reassure the Potter brat, who clearly did not understand anything about what was happening to him if his wide-eyed expression was any indication. What were the odds for someone to have a twin wand to his? For someone to have anything in common with Lord Voldemort? He was going to have to pay a visit to Ollivander - the present one - who not only had never told him that there was a twin wand to his own, but who had dared to sell it to someone.

He knew now how to interrupt the spell. However, to regain control of his wand, he would have to deploy his energy so suddenly that it would bring down the temporary wards he had erected to prevent the resistance from fleeing away. But his Death Eaters should have already got hold of some of them, and he himself would still be able to catch up with those three, which was more than enough for what he wanted to do.

oOoOoOo

Completely panicked Hermione was casting all the spells she knew to try to bring down the strange golden ward surrounding Harry and the Dark Lord.

"Keep holding on!" she said to Harry.

He was holding his wand with both hands and his face reflected his utter helplessness, whereas Voldemort's expression, momentarily astonished, was now thoughtful. With shaking hands, Hermione tried to think fast, exchanging worried looks with Ron, who did not know either what to do.

She saw the Dark Lord's face becoming expressionless again, and she had just enough time to begin to panic wildly when a magical blast swept through the room. The windows exploded, the armchairs were turned into splinters and the walls shake. The golden dome disappeared with a melodious sound strangely out of place and Lord Voldemort was already pointing his wand at her.

"Get out!" Ron shouted.

He had since the beginning of the fight spelled a charm warning him if the anti-Apparition wards were down. The next moment, Harry, Ron and Hermione Apparated away with a loud crack. They were now at the top of a hill in the middle of the Welsh countryside, the first point of their emergency Apparation sequence. They had barely caught their breath as the air around them started to vibrate from a foreign magic.

"He's following us!" Hermione said shakily.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged a frightened look. Hermione's heart was beating too fast in her chest. There were five Apparition steps in their sequence before their final destination. It normally took a few minutes to cast the spells that allowed someone to follow the trail of an Apparition, and they had to be launched in the seconds following the Apparition or it was too late. Five successive Apparitions should have ensured perfect protection.

But the Dark Lord obviously had other ways to follow them since he was already there, and Hermione wondered for a moment if he was not following the trail left by their magic, perhaps even the trail left by her magic. Without hesitation, she decided on the procedure to follow.

"We continue!" she said.

She looked at Harry and Ron. Then she swirled around, choosing a destination that was not on the sequence, refusing to guide Voldemort to the hiding places of the rebels, without knowing that her two friends had made exactly the same decision, each of them hoping to lure the Dark Lord on his steps to protect the two others.

oOoOoOo

Voldemort materialized on the small hill just as the three young wizards disappeared to three different destinations. He was not interested at all in the magical trace of the redhead, which was of no interest to him. He considered for a moment following the trail of Harry Potter to recover his wand. He did not really fancy the idea that a twin wand to his own wandered freely. But it was nothing compared to what Hermione could bring him when he would have found Seth's amulet, and he focused on the Mudblood's magic.

It took him two more Apparitions to catch up with Hermione, who was not able to move as fast as him. He noticed at a glance that they were in the middle of a forest, and a fraction of a second later he had laid out extensive anti-Apparition and anti-Portkey wards. He saw Hermione spinning on the spot without being able to disappear, almost losing balance when she slammed into his wards.

She immediately turned to him, wand stretched out in front of her with determination. But it was just an act. He could perfectly read the fear in her eyes and a smile stretched his lips.

oOoOoOo

Hermione felt like her legs were going to fail her. She was terrified. They had been unable to even worry him three-to-one, and now she was alone against the Dark Lord. She was not ready at all. She had always lost against him. She was just too far from his level…

She almost wanted to run away, but she was well aware of how stupid it would be. No one would help her, no one would save her, she was alone in front of the most powerful wizard of the past centuries and she knew she had no way to defeat him. But she was not going to yield either.

Hermione closed her mind, straightened her wand and aimed at the Dark Lord. She sent a quick prayer to Merlin and initiated the duel.

"Lumina," she casted.

The light intensity suddenly became blinding, and she took advantage of it to launch a curse at full power while moving slightly.

But the Dark Lord immediately sent her several unknown hexes. She avoided the first one by jumping to the side and the others by moving a tree in front of her. She cast a confusion spell in the direction of the Dark Lord and disillusioned herself. It gave her the few seconds she needed to move a few meters to the right.

She then cast several curses to force the Dark Lord to protect himself, before attempting an Expelliarmus at full power. All her spells, even the Expelliarmus, crashed into the Dark Lord's shield without causing any damage, and soon Hermione was too busy defending herself to be able to retaliate. She avoided a Cruciatus curse only by sheer luck and took advantage of a move of her adversary to create behind him a wave, which, even if it failed to drown the Dark Lord as it was intended, at least made him stop his attacks for few seconds.

Hermione knew that she did not have the upper hand in this fight, and that even more now than before, the Dark Lord was just toying with her. And she was proven right a few seconds later, when she felt a cutting spell tear the skin of her back. It reminded her of the very first time they had fought, and the memory of that humiliation enraged her. Had she really not progressed since then? Was she still unable to defend herself against him?

"It seems that your new friends have not managed to make a real witch out of you," the Dark Lord commented cruelly.

Blinded by rage, Hermione suddenly sent an overpowered laceration curse. The spell was slightly absorbed by the Dark Lord's shield but still managed to hit his left shoulder superficially. Time seemed to stop as he watched the blood that had just appeared on his shoulder. His mocking smirk had deserted his face, and when he turned back to her, Hermione knew he was no longer in the mood to play.

She watched him raise his wand with a morbid fascination and stretched all her muscles in anticipation. She avoided the first spells with difficulty, panting heavily. Too soon she was overrun and a Diffindo hit her left leg, making her release a pained cry. She did not even have the time to react before her wand was already flying towards the Dark Lord.

She remained motionless as he approached, aware that she had only one card left to play. Slowly, the Dark Lord raised his wand again.

"Accio wand," she shouted.

At the same time she threw herself to the left side to avoid Voldemort's Cruciatus, and stretched out her right hand to retrieve her wand flying towards her. She barely had time to wonder at the success of her spell before a purple curse struck her and she was violently knocked against a tree behind her, without being able to grab the precious piece of wood again.

"A smart move, Hermione, but it was not enough to save your pathetic self," the Dark Lord said scornfully as he approached her.

Grumbling in pain, Hermione tried to get up, all her body shaking from panic and pain, and she barely managed. In a burst of survival instinct, she tried to briskly hide herself behind the trees.

"Commodus," the Dark Lord casted immediately.

She found herself completely immobilized, unable to move. And she realized that she had utterly lost. Barely a few minutes and she had lost. She was at Voldemort's mercy. Again. Her mind panicked at this realization and she vainly started to struggle.

"No, no, it's not possible," she murmured, desperation flooding her.

"I must say you have disappointed me, Hermione," the Dark Lord said in a falsely nonchalant tone.

He approached calmly, indifferent to her efforts to free herself, until he was close, too close. He raised his hand and slowly skimmed her face in a disturbingly gentle caress. Hermione shivered with disgust.

"To try to fight against me, such a bold idea... Crucio!"

Pain spread through her veins and Hermione screamed. It felt unbearable. Her whole body was on fire, her skin was torn off, and her bones were all breaking at the same time. Her forced immobility made it even worse. The blood in her veins seemed to carry acid, and all she can feel was pain, only pain.

When the curse was stopped a few seconds later, she was shaking convulsively and her face was bathed in tears.

Voldemort cancelled the spell that was keeping her unmoving, and Hermione fell to the ground, vainly trying to catch her breath. She had forgotten how painful the Dark Lord's Cruciatus curses were. How hard it was not to stoop to beg him to stop it at any cost.

The Dark Lord's cold laugh jostled her, and she straightened up despite her trembling legs and arms. She would not die on her knees. She refused to give him this satisfaction. She did not know how long he would torture her before killing her, but she would resist until the end.

Defiantly, she looked straight into his eyes.

oOoOoOo

Voldemort met Hermione's feisty gaze with amusement. She was at his mercy again, and she was going to do exactly what he wanted her to do. He started another spell and saw the confusion in her eyes as she identified it just before begin hit.

"You have lost, Hermione," he said as she sank into unconsciousness.

He stared for a moment at the witch's body right at his feet, and a cruel smile slowly stretched his lips. She will suffer. He was going to make her regret escaping.

But before that, he needed to make sure that his Death Eaters had taken good care of the other rebels.

oOoOoOo

 **AN:** And here is the end of the 2nd arc of the story. The 3rd and last one will be the longest.


	17. Chapter 17

Hello,

Thank you very much for all your reviews, and also for all favs/ alerts.

I have good news: I progressed quite intensively on this story recently, so I will be able to publish each week in the coming weeks :)

I hope you will enjoy this new chapter.

Have a nice day,

Perhentian

oOoOoOo

 **Chapter 17 - August 1999**

... A large living room scarcely furnished, six young people celebrating some good news...

... A cramped house full of noisy redheads...

... Grimmauld Place's kitchen, the Order of the Phoenix members gathering in...

... Minerva McGonagall, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Emeline Vance, Sturgis Podmore, Hestia Jones, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Nymphadora Tonks, the Weasley, Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom...

... A joke as the inner circle of the Order moves away...

... Minerva McGonagall, Remus Lupin and Harry Potter...

... Another disgusting meal shared between the redheads...

... A workshop filled with colourful fireworks...

... Dozens of people taking part in duelling classes...

... Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner, Lee Jordan, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Hannah Abbot, Angelina Johnson, Susan Bones, Terry Boot, Cho Chang, Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell, Padma Patil, Parvati Patil, Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Daphne Greengrass, Blaise Zabini...

Lord Voldemort pulled out of Frederic Weasley's mind, and the redhead screamed in pain as he slumped ungraciously on the floor. The Dark Lord did not even look at him and let Bellatrix cast him a Cruciatus curse. A cruel smile adorned his lips for a moment as his prisoner screamed louder. This issue with the rebels was finally evolving in the correct direction.

"Duplicare Cogitationes," Voldemort casted in a fluid movement of his wand.

A parchment appeared in Bellatrix' hands, with all the names of the rebels written on it, as well as their addresses, professions, known friends, and any other detail that may be of importance.

"Do not disappoint me Bella."

Voldemort's voice had been perfectly clear despite the screams still echoing in the cell, and Bellatrix bowed to him hastily.

"I won't my Lord," she replied. "I…"

Voldemort's despising look stopped her abruptly and Bellatrix dutifully closed her mouth, well aware that once the most urgent directives would have been given to hunt down the rebels still on the run, she would pay for her past incompetence. She bowed deeply once again, still maintaining her Cruciatus curse on the redhead agonizing at her feet.

Voldemort left the room without another word, and immediately lost interest in the rebels. They were not a threat to him. He was an immortal mage; nothing they could do would harm him. His six Horcruxes were protecting him. Six carefully hidden Horcruxes, ensuring him an eternal reign. Even if his Horcruxes had nearly cost him his victory in the past...

He had mutilated his soul without thinking twice about it when he was younger; immensely pleased to venture farther than anyone on the path to immortality, without even realizing that he was bit by bit sinking into dementia as he created new Horcruxes. His own genius mind had been hurt at his expenses by the evil magic of the curse, and when he was now thinking about it he always felt an intense desire to strangle the young man he had been for not having more deeply researched the subject. He had lost so many years because of that…

If during the war his mind had been as clear as it was today, it would never have taken him so long to win, and there would never have been so much opposition. He would have infiltrated the Ministry of Magic discreetly, easily playing with politicians as if they were mere puppets, and he would have conquered Britain with ease and without anyone realizing it. Even Dumbledore would not have been able to do anything to stop him.

But the Horcruxes, while keeping him immortal, had diminished him. So much that he had not even been able to notice that the situation was degenerating. His only satisfaction was that among the few who had tried to do multiple Horcruxes - and always less than him - he was the only one to have finally managed to overcome the insanity issue.

In his obsessive search for a way to defeat Dumbledore in the mid-1980s, he had found the Flamel and their famous Philosopher's Stone. It had not been easy to get hold of it, but he had succeeded. The elixir of life he had extracted from the stone did not protect him from an accidental death, but it had annihilated the adverse effects of his Horcruxes and kept him in perfect health. So effectively that it only took him a few months to seize power in England afterwards. So effectively that it even gave him back his younger body. So effectively that he had even dared, one year after his victory, to create the last Horcrux that he was still missing to reach the perfect number of seven soul pieces.

Of course the Philosopher's Stone had its own flaws. He needed to drink the elixir once a month to remain sane, and he hated nothing more than to depend on anything, even the legendary Philosopher's Stone. But soon he would have other ways to guarantee his immortality, without having to rely on the stone, and then he would be the wizarding world sole ruler eternally.

oOoOoOo

Hermione awoke with a start, completely distraught. The first things she felt were a horrible headache and a throbbing pain over all her body. She opened her eyes and immediately recognized where she was. Her room. Her room at Slytherin Castle. Anguish overwhelmed her immediately and she nearly forgot how to breathe. She scanned the surroundings and her heartbeat calmed down only when she was sure to be alone.

Quickly examining herself she noticed that her dress was torn along her left side and that her arm had bled profusely. She moved it gently, but it did not hurt more than the rest of her body and she focussed on more important issues. She scanned the room again, more carefully than the first time. Nothing seemed to have changed since she had left, as if the time she had spent outside of that room had never existed. An icy chill ran down her back at this thought.

She got out of the bed and started investigating the room. Her wand was of course nowhere in sight, and her attempt to Accio it did not work. Just to be meticulous, she went to check the outer door of her suite but it was unsurprisingly closed. And except the Accio charm she had managed for the first time during her duel with the Dark Lord, she had never successfully casted any other spell wandlessly, including spells as basic as the unlocking charm.

There was no trace of the Dark Lord for now, but it was all the more distressing. She was not dead. Once again he had not killed her. But this time she could see some logic here. She had information about the rebels. Ture, she had a basic knowledge of Occlumency, but would she be able to withstand torture? Would she succeed in being sufficiently composed not to reveal any important information? A few hours of the Cruciatus curse she can perhaps endure, but whole days? It was just impossible… Flashes of what Voldemort had done to Fenrir Greyback all those months ago came back to her mind, and she had to hold back not to throw up.

oOoOoOo

When Tyler Greengrass Apparated to his manor around 8pm and saw the worried face of his wife, who was waiting for him in the main hall, he immediately had a bad feeling.

"Helen?"

"The Dark Lord is here Tyler."

Tyler's blood froze. The Dark Lord had almost never come to his house, and he wondered what could have decided him to do that, to wait here for his return instead of summoning him.

"Where is he?" Tyler asked, displaying a false sense of ease to reassure his wife.

"In the emerald living room."

"Very well, please wait for me in your sitting room Helen."

"He demanded to discuss with both of us."

Tyler could not hold back the worried glance he cast his wife, and then walked towards the emerald living room, Helen following him nervously.

"Daphne and Astoria still haven't returned home Tyler," she murmured anxiously when they were almost there.

Tyler nodded to acknowledge what Helen was saying, but did not answer. He would take care of one problem at a time, and the most pressing one was undoubtedly the Dark Lord.

They entered the large living room, and knelt in their own home in front of the dark wizard, his threatening aura enveloping them pitilessly. Voldemort ordered them to stand up in an even voice that was all the more threatening.

"My dear Tyler, my dear Helen..." the Dark Lord began.

Tyler knew immediately that he was not going to like what would follow, and he would have given anything for Helen not to be with him right now, anything for her to be spared.

"... perhaps you could explain to me how your eldest daughter have found herself being in league with the rebels?" Voldemort finished, his white wand whirling carelessly between his fingers.

Tyler felt as if the whole world had collapsed around him. The next moment two Crucio were thrown at his wife and him.

oOoOoOo

It was the middle of the night and Harry could not sleep. He was tossing and turning in his rudimentary bed, trying not to make too much noise not to worry Ron, George and Neville that were sleeping – or trying to – in the same room.

The day had been catastrophic. True, some Muggle-borns had been freed. And many of the rebels had had the emergency evacuation message on time and had been able to reach the various shelters without trouble. Harry's mind drifted for a moment to his Ginny, sleeping a few doors away with Luna, Daphne, and Daphne's younger sister, Astoria, whom the Minister of Magic's eldest daughter had brought with her when she understood that the rebels were compromised.

But Harry knew that their lives would never be the same again. From tomorrow, or perhaps even from tonight, the names of all the rebels would be unveiled, and each one of them would be hunted down relentlessly. They could no longer mingle with other people, they could no longer go out of their hiding places carelessly, and they would no longer remain anonymous.

But their fate, however, was still much better than the one of those who had fallen into the hands of the Dark Lord. They knew what happened to some of them. Emeline Vance was dead, Remus had seen it himself, unable to help the talented woman in time. Ginny had seen Death Eaters take away her half-conscious brother Fred, and only Katie had prevented her from hurling herself against five Death Eaters, Apparating her away as soon as the wards were down.

For others they were not fixed yet. Killed? Captured? On the run? Harry hoped it was the last possibility, though it was only slightly better than the two firsts. And if Harry dearly wished that this night and the next day would bring them some news, he was also already afraid to hear them. What were the odds that the missing ones had not been captured? What were the odds that Hermione had managed to leave behind the Dark Lord, without being able to reach them in time? Harry knew deep inside him that if the next day brought any news they would certainly be bad ones, and he felt awfully helpless lying in his bed, his wide open eyes looking at the ceiling.

oOoOoOo

The end of the day and the night passed agonizingly slowly for Hermione. The dresses she had worn were still in the closet. The books she had read were still in the living room library. She even nearly had had a heart attack when she discovered one of her bookmarks at the exact same place in one of the books.

She had not dared to reopen them, or even to sit in one of the armchairs in the living room. The situation seemed surreal. Hence she had just paced aimlessly in the room, turning over quickly at the slightest suspicious noise. She had almost screamed in fear when she had heard the sound of an Apparition before recognizing an elf and remembering that the Dark Lord usually appeared silently.

It was not Dory anymore that was tending to her. It was an unknown elf, and it had taken Hermione a lot of persuasion to learn what she wanted. Dory was dead, killed at the beginning of March by the Dark Lord for failing to do her job. Hermione had closed her eyes for a moment, shocked by the news. She had sown the seeds of death in her wake when she had run away, and she had not even been aware of it.

When the morning came, Hermione had not been able to sleep at all, and her anguish had only increased. The Dark Lord would come; there was no doubt about it. And she was not going to enjoy his visit. But even though she knew she could not do a thing to prevent it, she was unable to focus on anything in the meantime. Even the books did not attract her.

In the early afternoon, she had opened the window and was leaning on its edge, hoping that some fresh air would calm her anguish and sooth the tension she had felt continuously since the previous day. It was not working. She felt numb, her heartbeat was not calming down, and her legs were still shaking nervously.

She was about to finally close the window when the Dark Lord's magic filled in the room. She turned around abruptly and could not hold back a strangled cry as she saw Lord Voldemort within a yard of her. He was there in all its glory, his black robes twirling around him, his captivating magic oozing from him, and his carmine eyes fixed on her.

Hermione recoiled instinctively, bumping against the window sill. Her heart missed a beat or two, and she forgot how to breathe for a few seconds. She was terrified. Never had she been as scared of him as now, and she had never felt so vulnerable. It was even worse to face him knowing exactly what he was capable of.

"Hermione Granger, what am I going to do with you?" He asked evenly.

For a moment, Hermione felt like she was drowning. She was back five months ago, at the mercy of the Dark Lord, never knowing if she would live to see the end of the day, never knowing whether he would leave her alone or torture her, scared, trying without any success to stand up to him. She was that Hermione again, as if nothing had happened, as if all her efforts had been in vain.

"Cat got your tongue?" Voldemort mocked with a sarcastic smile.

He seemed to be in an extremely good mood and Hermione wanted to rip his smile from his face, her righteous fury pulsing in her veins.

"Don't pretend you haven't already decided!" she answered defiantly.

What does it matter? The situation could hardly be worse than it already was.

"Tsk, tsk, are your pitiful new friends so ill-mannered that you have forgotten how to properly address your superiors?"

She watched his smile widen in front of her indignation, and she suddenly felt an intense desire to pounce on him and to punch him hard, to hurt him, even if it would probably be the last thing she would ever try in her life. Instead she kept a grip on herself and only gritted her teeth in silent fury.

"It would seem so," Voldemort commented when it was clear she would not answer anything. "But you are correct Hermione, I know exactly what I am going to do with you."

He had come even closer saying that, and Hermione instinctively tried to melt into the wall behind her. She knew that soon she would scream in pain under his curses. Soon she would be tortured to the point of insanity.

"I won't tell you anything," she affirmed courageously.

Voldemort burst into a cold laugher that made her insides twist painfully.

"Oh, but do not worry, I have no need to ask you anything..."

"What?"

She frantically checked her Occlumency walls but everything seemed in place, and she felt an icy chill of fear running down her back.

"You're not the only one who has not managed to run away..."

Hermione's mind seemed to start spiralling in painful horror, as if she was dying from inside. She had wanted to believe that everyone had received the order to retreat in time. That everyone had managed to escape. That she would suffer but that she would at least be the only one.

"Who?" she asked with anguish.

The Dark Lord's smile widened again and Hermione had to muster her courage to stay upright and not to curl somewhere on the ground upon the terror that he currently inspired her. She would not crack in front of him. Not so soon.

"Do you want to see what happens to those who dare to oppose me Hermione?" the Dark Lord asked in a dangerous voice.

Hermione shook her head in denial. She did not want to know what he had done to her friends. She did not want to find them in the same state as Fenrir Greyback last fall. She did not want to face the mutilated corpse of Harry or Ron. But he was already grabbing her arm and making them Apparate. Back in Slytherin Castle's dungeons. Without giving her any time to recover, Voldemort made a swift hand movement and a passage appeared in one of the corridor's walls.

Hermione was pushed unceremoniously into the lugubrious cell and her whole body began to quiver with apprehension. She tried to back up but bounced into the Dark Lord who had entered just after her and she froze completely, not daring to move in any direction, fearing to trip over someone. Her eyes quickly became accustomed to the darkness and she managed to distinguish three forms completely slumped on the ground.

A light suddenly lit up the room and she recognized with horror the bodies of Fred Weasley, Susan Bones and Padma Patil, covered in blood. She tried to rush towards them but the Dark Lord grabbed her arm and pulled her back against him.

"They have not resisted very long, and they have ended up telling us everything," the Dark Lord said.

He was so close that Hermione had an acute awareness of his presence behind her back and she forced herself into the utmost stillness, as if it could help her.

She tried to analyse quickly what they could have revealed. If Susan and Padma were not part of the Order itself, Fred was, and he was aware of many things. But fortunately none of them knew anything about Severus Snape, none of them knew anything about the Dark Lord's Horcruxes, and none of them knew that she had information about those topics.

Voldemort was going to use Legilimency on her, she was sure of it. But she should be able to hide Severus Snape, and she should be able to hide the discussions she had had with Harry and Ron about the Horcruxes. If she was successful, Voldemort would not even know she had hidden anything from him. If not… if not all will be lost. She could not allow that. She will need to stay strong until the end to protect her secrets. There was no more hope for Fred, Susan, Padma or her, but there still was for the other rebels, and that was enough to galvanize her somehow.

"Arrest warrants have been issued for all your friends," Voldemort continued. "Many will soon join these three."

"You're a monster," Hermione blurted out, unable to stop herself. "How can you do that?"

She dearly hoped that the other rebels would manage to escape. They had arranged for several places to be used as safe houses in case anything ever happened, and several of them should still be secured, even though Fred and George's was no longer usable.

She shuddered when she suddenly felt the Dark Lord's breath on her neck.

"You know very well that I do as I please Hermione, and I will continue to torture them as long as I found it entertaining."

Continue to torture them... They were still alive, Hermione realized, and she looked at them again with great relief. They were probably unconscious, as they had not moved since they were there.

"Let them go," she pleaded. "Please. You said yourself that they have told you everything; there is no use to keep them here."

She had wanted her voice to be firm, but it sounded weak and laced with despair, and Voldemort only laughed.

"Please," she tried again. "Please show some leniency. You cannot kill all those who do not share your ideas!"

"Can't I?" he mocked her. "But I am going to show some leniency Hermione, do you know why?"

Hermione cranked her head to look at him, wondering what he was thinking about in his psychotic mind. She did not dare to hope yet and she was afraid of what he was going to say.

"Because each time you will misbehave, one of them will pay with his life."

Hermione froze completely.

"W ... What?" she stuttered with dread.

"I am going to need your cooperation in the coming months Hermione. The lives of these three are now linked to your obedience. I hope that will be enough motivation for you to obey me fully?"

Hermione was still paralyzed, her brain refusing to process the Dark Lord's words.

"No?" the Dark Lord said, loosening his grip on her arm. "Very well. Crucio."

The curse hit Padma, waking up the girl. She immediately started to scream madly and trashed on the floor.

"Please don't do that! Please. I'm sorry. Please, I'll obey you fully," Hermione said hurriedly.

"You made me wait Hermione. Look how this girl is now suffering because of you..."

"No, no, please, I'll do whatever you want, please, I beg you! Torture me in her place, please, please!"

Voldemort released his curse, but when she looked at him she understood he would not make it easy for her. A terrifying smile, both cruel and satisfied, adorned the face of the Dark Lord. For once his satisfaction did not bother her. Her only objective was to stop this torture. She could not let anyone be tortured because of her. Too many people had already suffered because of her.

"On your knees," he ordered.

Hermione immediately sank on her knees right in front of him, her eyes fixed on his dark robes.

"Tsk, tsk," the Dark Lord said with evident pleasure. "I want you to look at her Hermione."

Hermione clenched her fists but turned to Padma without a word. The girl was struggling to get in a seating position, her distraught gaze barely acknowledging what was happening in front of her. This was hell, a shade of hell darker than what she had ever experience before, and Hermione was not sure she could handle it.

"If I see you lower or close your eyes, it will last even longer. Am I understood?"

"Yes."

"Yes?"

Hermione raised her head and looked at him confusedly, before understanding. Resigned, she took a deep breath and answered.

"Yes, my Lord."

"Good girl. Now, enjoy the show."

Hermione struggled not to close her eyes as a new Cruciatus curse hit Padma. She watched her fall back to the ground and scream, and she plunged her nails deeper into the palms of her hands to keep from moving. She had only one desire, to get between Padma and the Dark Lord. She could not bear to stay still while her friend was being tortured in front of her for no other reason than the Dark Lord's cruelty.

"Please, please stop, please my Lord," she begged.

But the Dark Lord continued anyway. Hermione felt tears roll down her cheeks. Padma screamed, and Hermione begged, but it had no impact. They were both helpless, at the mercy of the Dark Lord.

Finally, Voldemort stopped. It had not even lasted a minute, but Hermione felt like it had been hours since the Dark Lord had cast his curse. Padma did not move, sprawled on the floor, and only her sobs stirred her body.

"Get up Hermione," the Dark Lord ordered in a cold tone.

Hermione had to rely on the wall to get up, and her legs were shaking so much that she knew she would not be able to stay standing for long. Voldemort approached and she pressed herself against the wall. She was terribly afraid of him right now, and she hated that. She hated him, and she hated herself even more.

"Do not make me regret my leniency Hermione."

Then he turned around and beckoned her to follow him, and Hermione wondered confusedly what part he thought was leniency. Not having killed her? Letting Fred, Susan and Padma languish in a cell instead of killing them? Or having only thrown two Cruciatus curses to Padma?

They had scarcely walked down a corridor before Hermione felt dizzy, and she had to lean on the wall to avoid falling on the ground. The Dark Lord looked at her with bored exasperation.

"Come on Hermione," he said scornfully. "Compared to what she has already gone through, it was nothing."

Hermione did not answer, too shocked by all that had happened, and he finally grabbed her arm and Apparated them both to the living room of her suite. He released her and she slumped into an armchair.

"I hate you," she said weakly.

The Dark Lord approached her and put his hands on her shoulders, towering her.

"Careful Hermione, I will not tolerate your insolence anymore," he warned in a dangerous voice.

Hermione's heart squeezed painfully in her chest and she felt like she was going to faint when he leaned down, his face a few inches from hers.

"You are mine Hermione, and you will never leave again," he whispered in her ear.

Before Hermione could react, he had straightened up and disappeared, leaving her alone with her shattered hopes.

oOoOoOo

When the Dark Lord had brought Hermione Granger to Ollivander's shop to find her a wand, he had taken care to Apparate in the middle of Diagon Alley, taking the opportunity to show her how much the wizarding world obeyed him, and shower all her hopes of rescue. But this time Lord Voldemort materialized directly in the wand maker's shop.

There was a split second of silence before the present wizards reacted. It was not a wind, but a hurricane of panic that carried them away. There was screaming involved, intense trampling and even fainting. The Dark Lord did not give them an ounce of his attention, merely pushing out with a distracted wand motion those who were taking too long to empty the place.

Soon he was alone with Ollivander.

"What can I do for you, my Lord?" the wand maker asked in an obsequious voice.

Voldemort twirled his yew wand between his fingers for a moment, and he could see the look of the wand maker wandering nervously between his wand and him.

"Crucio," he casted nonchalantly.

The old man in front of him collapsed on the ground and started to scream at the top of his lungs.

Voldemort did not want to part with his yew wand. If his acacia wand was a good spare, it was only with his first wand that he was able to reach the peak of his power. And he refused to restrain himself because of Potter's twin wand. Ollivander better had a good solution to propose.

He ended his spell and approached the wizard on the ground.

"It appeared to me that my wand may malfunction when faced with a certain other Ollivander," he said in a falsely detached tone. "You would not have forgotten to tell me something important about it, would you?"

The old man looked at him with frightened eyes and Voldemort knew he had perfectly understood what he was talking about. After all Ollivander was known to exactly remember all the wands he had ever sold. His anger towards the old man significantly increased.

"My Lord, I didn't know..."

"Do not lie to me."

Ollivander immediately went silent.

"How could I avoid this issue?"

"Another wand, my Lord, should..."

"Crucio."

Voldemort left his spell long enough for Ollivander to understand that he was in no mood to be satisfied with his answers.

"Are you able to craft me a second wand as powerful and adapted as the first one? You told me it was impossible many years ago..."

"My Lord, your second wand is adapted..."

"Crucio."

It was only several hours later that Voldemort came out of the wand shop. Ollivander had shown a very annoying resistance, but Voldemort had finally made him talk. Now he knew perfectly well what he should look for to get rid of the Potter problem. The elder wand.

oOoOoOo

 **AN:** See you next week!


	18. Chapter 18

Hello everyone,

As promised here is new chapter.

As usual, a big thank you to all those who read / follow / fav / review this story.

Have a nice day,

Perhentian

oOoOoOo

 **Chapter 18 - August 1999**

Harry dodged an unknown spell and rushed forward, Ron and Kingsley on his heels.

"Stupefy!" Kinsgley casted in a fluid wand movement.

The spell hit one of their pursuers who fall to the ground in a thud. A volley of curses flew towards them and they slowed down for a few seconds to erect strong shields. They were getting closer to the protective wards, and in few dozens of meters they would be in their safety. They needed to reach them. Harry did not even want to think about the disaster it would be if they were captured. Ron and he should not have participated to this rescue mission with their knowledge of the Horcruxes' existence – and Ron did not even know Occlumency! –.

"Impedimenta," Ron said.

"Excutite Terra," Harry added.

Their movements slowed down, the Death Eaters were unable to avoid Harry's earthquake curse, and the three rebels began running again as fast as they can. They were still a few meters away from the wards when their pursuers recovered.

"Diffindo!"

Ron screamed as blood gushed from his left arm. Harry saw him wobble on the spot, trying to cope with the pain, his face white as a sheet.

"Crucio!"

"Diffindo!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

The Death Eaters were getting dangerously closer and Harry rushed to his friend to help him.

"Confringo!" Kingsley casted to protect them.

Ron stumbled a few steps forward, half carried by Harry, but he was obviously not able to start running again anytime soon. Harry took a quick decision and raised his wand.

"Expulso!" He said.

The spell sent Ron flying through the air for several meters, and his scream when he hit the ground left little doubt about his suffering. But he was now safe inside the protective wards. Harry and Kingsley leaped forward and passed through the wards a moment later. Harry distinctly sensed the different levels of protection close around him and he felt relieved as the Death Eaters' spells now crashed on the invisible wards behind them.

"Go get Tonks and Andromeda," Kingsley ordered.

He was talking to his lynx-shaped silvery Patronus, who quickly dashed towards the little house.

"We cannot stay here long," Kingsley said to Harry. "Andromeda's wards are protecting us for the moment but it's been two days since they started to work to bring them down, they are probably not far from succeeding."

"I'm taking care of Ron."

Kingsley nodded and walked quickly towards the house as Harry knelt beside his friend, who had not yet regained consciousness.

"Epiksey, Epiksey, Epiksey," he chanted, tending to the wound on his arm from top to bottom.

He casted until the wound closed completely and he then shook Ron several times. The redhead finally opened his eyes with a grimace.

"Drink it," Harry said, handing him a vial.

"Tonks and her mother?" Ron asked before drinking all the vial in one go.

"Kingsley is taking care of them."

Already they were hearing hurried footsteps, and as Harry helped Ron to stand up Kingsley, Tonks and Andromeda arrived near them.

"We should go," Kingsley said. "Are you able to Apparate by yourself Ron? Very good. Harry you take care of Tonks and I take care of Andromeda."

A moment later, they Apparated to one of the rebels new shelters, satisfied to have been able to retrieve the two women who had been surrounded by Death Eaters for the last two days.

oOoOoOo

At the same moment, imprisoned between the four walls of her room, Hermione was pacing up and down like a caged lion. She had spent an awful evening and an even worse night, meaning that she had not slept a lot since her capture two days earlier. Her predicament was worse than anything she may have imagined. She had thought that she would be tortured, tormented, until she revealed all her secrets. She had thought that her worst fear would be to be killed or driven to insanity. Part of her had hoped that if by some miracle she was kept alive; she would be able to find a new way to escape the Dark Lord. But she had not thought that Lord Voldemort would threaten the life of her friends.

She had no other choice than to obey the Dark Lord; otherwise Fred, Susan and Padma would suffer even more than they already had. She had been stupid, reacting like the weak girl she was, completely paralyzed by Voldemort's threats. Instead of trying to negotiate on the spot, she had only made things worse.

Padma had been tortured right in front of her because she had been too slow to understand what was at stake, and she had not even tried to discuss their living conditions. She could not let her friends agonize slowly in the dungeons of the castle, at the mercy of any Death Eater who would fancy torturing them. She needed to try to talk to Voldemort again about it, and if she had to kneel and call him "my Lord" to achieve that she would!

Hermione dropped into one of the chairs, and glanced at the books on the shelves. She had no idea how, but she had to find a way to free her friends and run away with them. She would not surrender so easily. She would do anything the Dark Lord would ask her too, but she would keep him mind her own objective. Stop him.

oOoOoOo

It was the morning of Wednesday, the 11th of August, and Lord Voldemort was in Germany. The sky was clouded as he walked through the streets of the small village of Reimershagen, whose few inhabitants were bustling in anticipation of the solar eclipse that was to take place within an hour. He passed among the Muggles without them noticing him as he walked steadily towards one of the houses in the street.

He heard laughing inside as he knocked on the door. It opened quickly on a young woman whose smile faded when she recognized him. She immediately tried to move back and close the door but he stopped her with a lazy gesture of his wand and entered the house.

"I want Gregorovitch," he said coldly.

"Er wohnt hier nicht mehr!" the woman replied hastily. "He no live here! He no live here! I know him not!"

"Where is he?"

"Das weiß ich nicht! He move! I know not, I know not!"

The young woman was terrified, and Voldemort was able to see her distress increase even more as two young children ran into the hall, alerted by the noise. He nonchalantly twirled his wand, a satisfied smile on his face. There was no information easier to obtain than from the mouth of a mother afraid for her children.

"Crucio."

The red jet of light hit the youngest child and he screamed loudly as the mother knelt down and begged him to stop.

oOoOoOo

Voldemort was back at Slytherin Castle by early afternoon and he was particularly pleased. The rebels were nearly defeated. Tyler had nothing to do with the defection of his daughters and Voldemort had made sure he would not turn against him in the vain hope of protecting them. Bellatrix and her militia were relentlessly looking for any refuge where the rebels could be hiding. More importantly, Voldemort had solid trails to find both the elder wand and Seth's amulet.

And he had Hermione. Even if he could have chosen who should be used, she would probably have been on the potential candidates' shortlist. She was protected from the rebels, who would never attack her now that she had been one of them. And he would also make sure that none of his Death Eaters would dare to approach her. She would be the safest person in the Magical Alliance, and she would serve him without even knowing it when he would finally manage to get his hands on Seth's amulet. He would enjoy seeing her trying to struggle against him without being able to do anything.

With a satisfied smile he Apparated into Hermione's living room, and was surprised to find her quietly reading a voluminous book in her favourite armchair. When he had left the day before she had been in a catatonic state, close to faint out of helplessness and horror. He had not really thought that less than 24 hours later he would find her perfectly poised, sitting cross-legged as if everything was perfectly fine.

She straightened up as she noticed him, calmly put down her book, got up, and under his slightly surprised gaze knelt on the floor.

"Get up," he ordered curtly.

She should have been apathetic, or she should have foolishly started to scream at him. He was already tempted to torture her friends in front of her again to destroy her composure, until she was once again a mess. He met her fiery eyes as she stood up and they watched each other for a moment in silence, their two magic filling the air around them. There was determination in her eyes, and the same spark of combativeness he had always observed in there.

Some would have found it admirable, but Voldemort only found it stupid. If the girl had not been so obtuse, he could have offered her a perfect, opulent life at his service. She had all the capabilities needed to become a great witch under his wing. But she had chosen the rebels, and that was a huge mistake she will pay for with her servitude for the rest of her life.

"Had a good night?" he asked sarcastically.

"Very good, my Lord," she replied.

Although she looked confident, he perceived the slight tremors in her voice, and that was enough for him to know that she was in fact terrified. He waved his wand and Hermione tensed noticeably, before relaxing as she saw that he had just brought out a new pile of books on her table.

"I will be away for a few days," he said. "Make sure to read them thoroughly as I will expect a perfect understanding of the theories inside when I return."

Hermione looked at him suspiciously, obviously not expecting that, and he was about to leave when she took a step towards him.

"May I ask you a question, my Lord?"

Voldemort gestured for her to ask, wondering if this question would enlighten him about Hermione's strangely composed behaviour.

"You have promised me that you would spare my friends if I followed your orders, my Lord," she began. "Do you also guarantee that they will not be tortured nor by you, nor by your Death Eaters, and that they will be treated decently?"

And here it was indeed. The reason why she had knelt in front of him without any word from him, the Dark Lord thought with amusement. He could not deny that she was entertaining. He approached her and saw her confidence crack as the distance between them decreased.

"Are you trying to negotiate with me Hermione?" he asked in a cold voice.

He saw her swallow before talking, and a quick glance at her superficial thoughts confirmed that she was not as comfortable as she was trying to look.

"No, my Lord," she replied cautiously. "I just wanted to make sure I had correctly understood what you had told me."

So she really wanted to try to negotiate with him... How foolish of her.

"You know, though, that I do not like to repeat myself," he said, absently pulling out his wand.

She paled at his words, afraid of him, but then she frown and he knew that she was looking for an alternative way to secure her friends condition.

"I'm sorry, my Lord," she said finally. "It was not my intention to bother you, and since you talked about repetition, I'm reassured to know that I understood correctly."

Voldemort could not help but laugh scornfully. He had not been mistaken when he had thought that visiting Hermione would entertain him. He smiled cruelly and leaned towards the young witch, who managed not to back down.

"Hermione, Hermione," he shook his head. "Your friends are still alive, and there is nothing else you can demand. Unless you want me to show you again how my Cruciatus curse affects them?"

He saw her struggle not to blurt out an angry retort, and her eyes flashed with rage. It made him remember that he still needed to check if by any chance she knew anything else than the three other rebels. He took another step towards her and roughly grabbed her hair to immobilize her head. She let out a strangled cry, and he raised his wand as terror appeared on the girl's face.

"Legilimens."

Hermione's eyes widened and he dove in her thoughts.

... Hermione on a tropical beach, looking at the sky...

So she thought she could resist him? He swept the memory away effortlessly.

... Hermione in a glade...

He swept the memory away again, focusing on what he was looking for, her interactions with the rebels.

... Hermione sitting next to a lake...

... Hermione watching Severus disappearing before looking in amazement at her wand...

Now she was finally losing control of her thoughts, and Voldemort almost felt disappointed by her poor resistance.

... Hermione entering the chimney of the west wing living room shouting "Diagon Alley"...

... Hermione being interrogated by some rebels...

... Hermione learning that he was the leader of the Magical Alliance...

... Hermione chatting with Harry Potter. Hermione reading books in the rebels library. Hermione training with them. Ron Weasley holding Hermione's hands and assuring her that he would protect her. Hermione fighting a duel against Bellatrix Lestrange. Hermione trying to Accio her wand without magic. Ron Weasley reassuring Hermione again as they prepared to enter Carrow Manor. Harry Potter disappearing under an invisibility cloak. Hermione feeling his presence and screaming to the others to flee...

When the Dark Lord came out of her mind, Hermione collapsed on the floor in pain. Her body was shaking with nervous tremors and she tried to regain control over her breathing as quickly as possible. It was out of the question for her to spend more time than necessary slumped at the Dark Lord's feet.

Her breath was wheezing, her eyes were hurting as hell, and her was face still turned to the ground, but she felt a victorious smile stretch her lips. He had not seen anything about Severus Snape. And nothing about Horcruxes either. She almost wanted to burst out laughing. And to gloat in front of Severus Snape, so he would stop scorning her skills with such disdain. She had succeeded! She had made it!

She heard the rustling of a cloth on the floor and all her euphoria disappeared at once. She might have won here, but that did not improve her own current predicament in the least, and she knew that things were not looking very well for her. Forcing her arms to obey her Hermione slowly got up.

She straightened without Voldemort saying a word, his white wand as often twirling between his fingers. Hermione looked at him. The tension in the room was palpable, and she wondered if she would ever get used to the raw power of his magic. They stared at each other for a few seconds before a macabre smile appeared on the Dark Lord's face.

"Ronald Weasley, really?"

His voice was mingled with disgust and contempt and Hermione had to struggle not to blurt out something she would regret later. Instead she gritted her teeth and glared at him. He approached her and Hermione tensed. He was again far too close to her and she felt her heart beat painfully in her chest out of fear. With a soft gesture, he grabbed her wrist and Hermione nearly yelped with disgust.

She looked at his hand on her wrist, and saw him catching the bracelet she was wearing between his fingers. It was Harry and Ron who had offered it to her months ago, so that she always had something on her that could be used as an emergency portkey. In her head it had always represented a bond with Harry, but especially with Ron who had been the one to tie it around her wrist.

She felt Voldemort's magic focus on it, and the next moment the bracelet had vanished. It was the last link that had connected her to her friends, and he must have guessed it from her memories.

"Do not forget to read the books," the Dark Lord said as he walked away.

"Why do you want me to learn anything? After all, I'm only a mere Mudblood. My Lord," she hastily added.

Hermione bit her lip hard. Was she really unable to hold her tongue? She cannot get her friends killed because of her stupidity! But the Dark Lord seemed more amused than furious.

"I do not care about your blood Hermione," Voldemort answered.

Hermione gaped. _He_ did not care about her blood? He had based his whole reign on the discrimination of Mudbloods, on the superiority of purebloods! To her dismay he drew closer to her once more.

"Blood discrimination is only a way to control the crowds Hermione, and there have never been a lot of people willing to defend the poor little Mudbloods against the great powerful purebloods..."

"But that's sick!" Hermione exclaimed. "You have reduced an entire category of the population to slavery simply to seize power? It's ... It's just evil!"

"There is no good and evil Hermione, there is only power and those too weak to seek it," the Dark Lord replied.

They were frightfully close and Hermione looked away from the Dark Lord's piercing gaze.

"You are wrong," she said simply. "And one day you will lose everything."

"Do not forget whom you are talking to Hermione. It would be a shame for your friends' lives."

Hermione's anger disappeared suddenly and she grew pale.

"Forgive me, my Lord," she said hurriedly, swallowing her pride.

The Dark Lord stared at her for a moment, his face showing no emotion. Then after a few seconds that seemed to last much longer, he moved away slightly and Apparated without a sound.

Hermione took a few steps back, leaned on the armrest of one of the armchairs and closed her eyes for a moment. The tension that had inhabited her for several minutes was finally subsiding, and she had only one desire, to slip on the ground and curl up. But Hermione exhaled softly, opened her eyes again, and headed for the pile of books waiting for her.

oOoOoOo

"Do you have any news?" Harry asked wearily.

Minerva McGonagall and Remus Lupin exchanged a sad look and Harry felt his heart sank.

"We have not heard anything from Hermione, Susan, Padma, and Frederic," McGonagall said, her voice as strict as ever. "Xenophilius was killed by Death Eaters while Remus, Ginevra and Luna were trying to get him out of his house this morning. Blaise and Seamus were injured while protecting Molly when the Burrow's protections broke down. It is not certain that they will recover..."

Harry's face became even sadder than it already was. The Death Eaters had ambushed them every time they had tried to retrieve the rebels still entrenched in their homes. Too many had died or had been injured in the past two days. Too many were still missing.

"Do you have any ideas for the other Horcruxes Harry?"

Harry looked at Remus in astonishment, and his father's old friend smiled gently at him.

"We have to keep looking for them Harry," he continued. "Hermione had found some information, hadn't she?"

"It was only linked to Tom Riddle's orphanage, and we have already looked at all of those," Harry answered with defeatism.

He had no idea where to look at next. To tell the truth, Horcruxes had been completely out of his mind for the last days. But Remus was right; he needed to focus again on how to win this war. He was about to apologize for his uselessness the past days when they heard slight knocks on the door and McGonagall lifted the silencing spell that surrounded them.

"Yes?" she asked.

The door opened and Ginny entered the room. It was written all over her face that she had cried a lot but she forced herself to smile to them, her determination clear in her posture.

"Dinner is ready, and Mom has warned me that she will personally look for anyone who will not come down right away," she said, looking at Harry.

She knew he was avoiding meals, feeling too bad to swallow anything. But he nodded. To make Mrs. Weasley happy. To make Ginny happy. She had been right those past days, urging him to recover and to act. He cannot abandon now.

oOoOoOo

The sound of the bell broke the oppressive silence that pervaded the shop. The salesman looked at the door, and straightened up as he noticed that Lord Voldemort had entered the shop. He bowed obediently, the fear clearly visible in the depths of his eyes.

"My Lord, it is a pleasure to see you. How may I help you?"

"Keep quiet," Voldemort replied dryly.

The man moved hastily out of his way and Voldemort walked without hesitation behind the counter. After all he knew everything about this dark shop. With a quick wave of his wand he opened one of the imposing drawers and pulled out several registers, while Borgin stared at him with barely hidden uneasiness.

Voldemort could not remember exactly when Seth's amulet had gone through the shop. It was somewhere during the summer of 1947. He had just returned from Albania where he had recovered Ravenclaw's diadem and various other interesting trinkets, and back then he had only started to work in the shabby shop.

He never regretted his choice to spend a few years of his early life doing this work, before even going to the University. He had learned here a lot more about magic than anyone could imagine. And even today, when he finally found Seth's amulet listed among the various lines written many years ago, he condoned his decision.

The line indicated the purchase date, the reference of the record he had at the time written and to which, he knew now, was missing the most important information. But what interested him the most was the purchase date and the buyer.

His anger flared as he saw the name on the paper. Maria d'Aguilar. Caractacus Burke should have done this sale. There was no way he would have forgotten solding the amulet to the dean of the University. Thoughtfully, Voldemort patted his fingers on the register. For any other wizard he would have just confronted them to get the amulet, but here he was dealing with a mage.

No, he would need to keep his search under the radars. He would go to Spain to try to find out what had happened to the amulet without involving Maria. And he hoped the witch had not kept it, because stealing something under the old mage's nose would be far from easy, even for him.

It was a setback he had not anticipated. It would probably take him much longer to recover Seth's amulet than the few days he had initially estimated. The Magi always had the knack of getting on his way, and he was looking forward to kill them all. Soon.

oOoOoOo

 **AN:** You may remember that there was indeed a solar eclipse on the 11th of August 1999 in Europe :)

See you next week!


	19. Chapter 19

Hello everyone,

Thank you very much for the reviews / favs / alerts.

I hope you will enjoy reading this new chapter.

Have a nice day,

Perhentian

oOoOoOo

 **Chapter 19 - August 1999**

With a dry gesture Hermione went back a few pages, carefully re-reading a paragraph. She did not know where the book was coming from, nor who was its author - a wizard named Zhao Ming - but it was incredibly difficult to understand, even with the automatic translation charm already embedded in it. Still it was very interesting, and Hermione was exasperated not to be able to understand it faster.

She was convinced that she would have needed to read a least a dozen intermediate books to be able to serenely understand "Advanced Architecture". Advanced. Who were they kidding? It was far more than simply advanced. She had to read each sentence at least four times to make sure she understood everything.

And the other books that the Dark Lord had provided her were just as complex, though dealing with different subjects. Hermione sighed and scribbled down few notes, crossing out at the same time one of her previous conclusion that had been completely ruined by the chapter she was currently reading. She was feeling stupid, and she hated it.

Hermione put the book down on the table for a moment and rubbed her eyes. She was beyond tiredness. She had not been able to sleep correctly, vivid images of Fred, Susan or Padma screaming in pain haunting her. She was also terrified about what could have happened to the other rebels, having no news of the outside world. And even if she tried to be courageous, she was scared to death to see the Dark Lord again and to confront him once more about her friends.

oOoOoOo

Lord Voldemort probed the room with his magic again. Nothing. No residual trace of magic. No lead for any hidden compartment. And it had been an hour since he had started to analyse the apartment. An hour spent trying absolutely every spell that came to his mind. Lord Voldemort abhorred failing, and in the past few days all his tracks regarding Seth's amulet had been dead ends.

He was certain that Maria had actually bought it. Nobody would have dared to use her name without her consent. But he had not managed to find a trace of the Amulet in Spain. Either it was very well hidden, or it had never been there. But where in this case? At the University? Maria did not usually use her own school to hide dangerous objects inside. No, that was more a habit of the old fool.

Voldemort froze for a moment. Albus Dumbledore and Maria d'Aguilar had been pretty close as magi... But Voldemort immediately refuted the idea. Maria would not have shared the amulet with Dumbledore. Not at this time anyway. But where could she have kept the amulet then? Voldemort thoughtfully twirled his wand between his fingers. Where was Maria d'Aguilar during the summer of 1947? She had spent most of it in Spain, he had checked. Some trips to Russia. At least one trip to England to buy Seth's amulet.

And suddenly the memory resurfaced. The witch was not yet a widow at the time. She should have studied the object with her husband. Maybe they had even tried to use it. After all, her husband was the one from whom he had stolen many years ago the book that had put him on the trail of the amulet to begin with.

He would need to go to China then. Voldemort hesitated to leave immediately, but he had already been away from England for too long. He had many points to discuss with his lieutenants, and he had still not made sure that Hermione was protected from his Death Eaters. He could not take the risk to see the Greyback's incident happen once more. Hermione was now too precious to be lost, and he was going to make sure no one dared to attack her.

Voldemort glanced one last time at the room, cast a few spells to erase all remaining traces of his presence, and Apparated to Slytherin Castle.

oOoOoOo

Hermione stuck a wayward lock of hair behind her ear and continued to scribble wildly on the parchment in front of her, before frowning. It made no sense at all. She was clearly missing something here, and she was unable to pinpoint what.

"Damn it!" she said, furiously pushing her pen away.

"Are those books too complicated for you Hermione?"

Hermione turned around at once and was about to shout out all her frustration on the one who dared to sneak up on her when she remembered exactly who was in front of her, and she immediately closed her mouth again. Still immersed in the book she was reading, she needed a few more seconds to remember that she was expected to kneel in front of the Dark Lord and she did so with reluctance.

"Get up," the Dark Lord ordered curtly.

Hermione stood up and observed him, but as often his face was not reflecting any of his thoughts. She felt herself tense. She knew that the Dark Lord must have a good reason to keep her alive, but she had no idea what his reason was. The Dark Lord's magic began to fill the room, and Hermione realized that he had been able to surprise her only because he had previously masked his magical aura.

"How have you done that?" she asked. "My Lord."

As every time, the "my Lord" felt like dirt in her mouth, but the potential consequences were too important for her to omit it. A smirk appeared on the Dark Lord's face, but he did not dignify her with an answer. She suspected he had displayed that ability in front of her only so she would constantly wonder if he had not stealthily appeared behind her. She swore in her head. Last year he had said that it was not usually possible to hide ones magic, but it seems that he had now managed to do exactly that.

"Have you read all the books?" he asked.

"Yes, my Lord."

"Do you have any questions?"

Immediately, hundreds of questions jostled in Hermione's mind. She considered for a moment not to ask them, just to piss off the Dark Lord, but she knew it was ridiculous. There was always the risk that he would use legilimency if she did not answer anything, and she should not give him the idea to look into her memories again.

"I don't quite understand magical polarity, my Lord," she said finally.

He just nodded, and then motioned for her to approach. Hermione looked at him uncertainly. It was not like the distance offered her any security, but getting closer to him was always worrying. Seeing his expression becoming more and more threatening as she hesitated, Hermione tried to calm down the erratic beating of her heart and moved quickly towards him. He held out his left arm, and after another furtive glance at him, she put a trembling hand on it.

She recognized the familiar sensation of Apparition and a moment later her feet touched the ground again. They were in the Dark Lord's study and Hermione shuddered. The last two times she had set foot there was when the Dark Lord had tortured Fenrir Greyback, and when he had lifted her magical shield. Neither of this two experiences were a good memory.

"Come here Hermione."

The Dark Lord had gone to the few armchairs in front of the fireplace and Hermione cautiously followed him, wondering what was going on. He motioned her to sit down on one of the sofas, and she awkwardly sat in front of him.

"Magical polarity is an essential notion any decent wizard should be aware of. Magical Polarity is the reason why you lost your duel against Bellatrix. Knowledge of this discipline would have avoided your humiliation, and would have allowed you to understand why a Protego Maxima could do nothing against the curse she had casted. The theory is quite simple..."

A few minutes later, Hermione finally had tangible explanations supporting the theories developed in the books she had read. She almost thanked the Dark Lord for his more than welcomed explanations, before stopping herself. There was no way she would thank him for anything, not if she was not forced to. And she forbade herself to even think that she had missed discussing with someone so knowledgeable.

Half an hour later, Voldemort was explaining to her some complex theories about spells architecture when the characteristic hiss of the Parseltongue was heard in the study. Hermione jumped, and the Dark Lord glared at her disdainfully as he stood up. She was about to get up as well when he ordered her to remain seated. With a flick of his wand he brought out the books and notes she had been working on previously on the table. Hermione looked at him questioningly.

"Stay here. And behave if you do not wish me to make you destroy an entire Muggle street under the Imperius curse."

There was no room for protest and Hermione stilled on the couch. She had no doubt that he would carry his threat out, and she had really no desire to see it happening. The Dark Lord turned away from her, and hissed something at the painted snake, increasing Hermione's uneasiness.

The girl feverishly grabbed one of the books in front of her as a precaution, and watched apprehensively as the doors opened. Voldemort stood in front of his desk, his posture deceptively relaxed. His face was expressionless again and Hermione realized that he was always more expressive, almost passionate, when he was discussing magical theory. It had always been the case, even the first times they had started to interact on the subject one year ago.

A blond, aristocratic man entered the study and Hermione identified him in the blink of an eye. Although she had never seen him before, Lucius Malfoy was easily recognizable. Voldemort's foreign affairs representative was known to be haughty and contemptuous, and Hermione was immediately certain that this was indeed the case. He was the only Death Eater of the Dark Lord's circle she had not yet met, and she would have done very well without it. Especially when she did not have her wand on her to send him a nasty curse.

He knelt before the Dark Lord with undeniable grace and Hermione immediately hated him. He had the superior attitude of those men who despised everyone simply because, for one reason or another, they were in a more powerful position, and greatly enjoyed that. Cautiously, Hermione probed the magic of the blond wizard in front of her, and she had to hold back a disdainful snort. Although he was relatively powerful, it had nothing to do with the Dark Lord's magic. At least Voldemort had a reason for his superior attitude.

"You may rise Lucius," the Dark Lord said.

Lucius Malfoy stood up and Hermione immediately pretended to bury herself in the book she had in her hands.

"Give me an overview of the political landscape of the past days," Voldemort ordered.

Hermione glanced furtively at the Dark Lord and Lucius Malfoy, and noticed that the blond aristocrat was doing exactly the same with her and the Dark Lord.

"Ah, true, you have never met Hermione, have you Lucius?" the Dark Lord asked with a falsely surprised tone.

"I do not think so, my Lord," the Death Eater said cautiously.

Hermione wondered what game the Dark Lord was playing at. No one had been aware of her presence at Slytherin Castle the last time, except for Tyler Greengrass and Severus Snape, and only by luck for the second one. Ah, and Crabbe and Goyle too, but Hermione was fairly certain that either their memory had been erased after the incident with Fenrir Greyback, either they were not able to talk about it. Because when she had fought against them in Knockturn Alley, they had not seemed to even recognize her.

"Well, Lucius, how long should I wait for your summary?" the Dark Lord asked coldly.

Lucius Malfoy started immediately and Hermione felt completely lost. She had no idea what was going on. She sat completely frozen on the couch in the Dark Lord's study while Lucius Malfoy was discussing the regime's grip in all the countries of the Magical Alliance. The recent defeat of the rebels in the United Kingdom had obviously killed in the bud any attempt to rebel in other countries, and Hermione wondered if the Dark Lord had made her stay to show her that all their actions had been in vain. But he could have just as well announced it himself to her.

When the Dark Lord dismissed Lucius and approached her again, she had not turned a single page of the book she was supposed to read. She watched him stop right in front of her and felt her heartbeat pick up with fear.

"From now on you will study here," he told her.

Hermione opened her eyes wider and panic seized her. She did not want to spend even more time with the Dark Lord, wondering what he might have in mind. She could never concentrate properly if he was constantly a few feet away from her.

"Do you have a problem with that Hermione?" he asked, towering over her.

She stood up not to feel so insignificant and mustered up all her courage.

"My Lord, I think I would be more efficient if I continue to work in my room."

His cold stare made her heart beat even faster and she tensed when his magic surrounded her more strongly.

"Go back to work Hermione. You would not want to disappoint me, would you?"

oOoOoOo

The next hour passed very slowly. Hermione did not think she had ever been so inefficient. The book she had in her hands, especially after the Dark Lord's explanations on magical polarity, was enthralling. Normally, she would have even been ready to fight in order to have a chance to read it. But now, the words blurred before her eyes without any coherence.

From time to time she felt the Dark Lord's gaze on her, and she made huge efforts to appear concentrated. Fortunately he had not spoken to her in the past hour, and seemed deeply immersed in his own work.

Hermione was reading for the fifth time a particularly long sentence, when a hissing sound was heard again in the study. And it did not come from the door. Immediately tensing, Hermione looked up and scanned the study all around her, before locating Nagini who had just slipped behind the Dark Lord.

The snake gazed back and Hermione shuddered. Like Lucius Malfoy, she would have done well without Nagini. She had far too many nightmares where she was devoured by the huge snake to feel at ease in her presence. As if she had felt her fear, the snake slipped silently towards her and unsurprisingly its master did not stop her.

By reflex, Hermione pulled her legs up on the couch, desperately trying to have a grasp over her magic. She hated feeling defenceless, and it was unfortunately what she was without her wand. But when Nagini was only few feet away her fear was replaced by surprise.

"She's a magical snake!" she blurted.

"Of course Nagini is a magical snake," the Dark Lord commented in a bored tone.

He had not even bothered to look at her. But Hermione was not only surprised to feel magic around Nagini. She was surprised to feel _his_ magic. And if it was the first time she felt his magic mixed with the one of a living being, she still had little doubt about what was going on. Nagini was one of the Dark Lord's Horcruxes.

Hermione was facing a dilemma. The Dark Lord must not know that the rebels were tracking his Horcruxes. But even without knowing that Nagini was a Horcrux, she could only be surprised that the Dark Lord's magic was mingling with the one of the snake.

"But this is your magic!" she decided to say. "My Lord."

She was almost curious to know what explanation he would come with. This time he slowly turned his head towards her, and his slightly amused face confirmed that he had expected her to notice Nagini's magic peculiarity.

"Nagini is far from being a snake like any other..." he began.

No kidding. There were probably not many snakes wandering around with a piece of Lord Voldemort's soul inside them, Hermione thought. And she was particularly thankful to have tuned her gaze on Nagini and not on the Dark Lord as soon as that thought had begun to form in her head.

"Nagini protects Slytherin's bloodline. That's why she is linked to my magic."

Hermione admired for a moment the ease with which the Dark Lord could utter a perfect truth without revealing anything. She watched with a renewed apprehension Nagini slip around the coffee table, and she cursed her misfortune when the huge snake decided to stop just below her.

"Could you tell her to move away, my Lord?" she asked when she realized that Nagini had really settled there.

"Do not pay attention to her Hermione."

He was clearly amused and Hermione pulled back even further into the couch.

oOoOoOo

Tyler Greengrass rushed up the stairs. The Dark Lord was back, and he was going to expect from him a detailed status of what had happened in the United Kingdom in his absence. And Tyler had even less desire than usual to face Lord Voldemort. He was no longer in the Dark Lord's good graces anymore since the news that both Daphne and Astoria had disappeared with the rebels. If Tyler wanted to make sure that his daughters would not be killed on sight when the rebels would fall, he had to gain back the Dark Lord's trust.

For the umpteenth time in a few days, Tyler wondered how it was possible that his life had taken such a drastic turn. He had been happy. His family had been happy. Protected. Opulent. Daphne and Astoria had always had everything they wanted. They were marvellous young girls who had seemed to blossom more and more in the last purebloods gathering. Why did they join the rebels? What had he done wrong? How could he have not seen that they were making this huge mistake?

Tyler convulsively squeezed his wand in his right hand. He absolutely had to please the Dark Lord again if he wanted to protect his two daughters and his wife.

"Tyler Greengrass requests an audience," he said to the painting guarding the Dark Lord's study.

A few moments later the doors opened silently and Tyler entered the study. He quickly walked to the centre of the room and knelt before the Dark Lord with more deference than he had shown since at least three or four year. As he had expected, the Dark Lord did not let him get up immediately as he usually did, and Tyler forced himself to endure stoically the Dark Lord wrath. He would carry through everything, every humiliation, every curse, to protect his family.

He knew that the Dark Lord was right in front of him – he could feel his magic around him –, and as he focused on the intoxicating power he realized that they were not alone. From one corner of the study came Nagini's magic, impressive for the one of a snake, but it was not what had startled him. From the same corner, another magic was oozing, and it was one of formidable power. It twirled in the air like wind before a hurricane, and Tyler was almost certain he had never felt it before. As he focused on it he identified something vaguely familiar, perhaps somehow linked to Albus Dumbledore's magic, but he dismissed that idea as quickly as possible. Albus Dumbledore was dead and he had died without having any heirs.

"Get up, Tyler," the Dark Lord said at last.

Tyler got up hastily, and his gaze drifted to the corner of the room. And despite all his resolve to have an absolutely impeccable attitude in front of the Dark Lord, he froze for a brief moment. There, in one of the couches of the study, was lounged Hermione Granger, attentively reading a book. She had her feet on the couch, and the Dark Lord's snake was lying just below her. She only briefly acknowledged his presence, greeting him with a quick nod, before focussing again on her book.

"It is quite rude to stare at Hermione like that Tyler, and it is not like you have not met before."

Tyler's attention was instantly back on the Dark Lord and he bowed his head in respect.

"I apologize, my Lord. Miss Granger," he added to greet the young woman.

He really wanted to know how Hermione Granger could have come across such magical power, but his first priority was undoubtedly Lord Voldemort, and, with all his thoughts focused on his wife and his daughters, he began his report to the Dark Lord.

oOoOoOo

All in all, Hermione must have read less than fifty pages during the whole afternoon. Between Lucius Malfoy, Tyler Greengrass, and Nagini, there had not been many moments of calm, if it was possible to call a moment of calm a moment when only Lord Voldemort and his oppressive magic were present.

She had hoped that Tyler Greengrass would spoke of the rebels, but to her disappointment he had only told the Dark Lord that Bellatrix was currently tracking them down in the south of Scotland. That was not really reassuring. Tyler's report was lengthy, and during all this time it was obvious that the Dark Lord resented him. Hermione knew that Voldemort had been on the verge of throwing a Cruciatus to Tyler several times. Or an Avada Kedavra. And Tyler Greengrass had probably known it too. The desertion of Daphne did not seem to have pleased the Dark Lord.

Finally, Voldemort dismissed his Death Eater, and the next moment he was walking towards her. Hermione stiffened on the couch, and she would have risen to be at the same level as him if Nagini was not still occupying all the space below the couch. So she just brought her knees up against her torso, and she felt horribly small and helpless in that position.

The Dark Lord snapped his fingers and Adely, the elf who was now taking care of her, appeared.

"It is time for you to leave Hermione," he said pointing to the elf.

His face became more threatening when she did not move, and Hermione realized that he was not going to disturb his stupid snake for her. With great caution, she reached out of the couch, stepping over the sleeping snake with fear. She had scarcely regained her balance when the Dark Lord turned away from her.

"My Lord, for my friends I..."

Instantly the Dark Lord was on her and her words got caught in her throat. He was too close, and he was clearly annoyed.

"The next time you mention them I will kill one of them, is that clear?" he announced sharply.

"Yes, my Lord" Hermione replied hastily.

He kept his gaze on her for a few seconds and she prayed with all her might that he did not decide to put his threat into execution right now.

"I will see you tomorrow Hermione."

He accompanied his order with a scornful gesture towards the house elf and Hermione hastily grabbed the house elf's hand, not wanting to annoy him even more.

As soon as she was back in her room, Hermione dropped onto the bed and began to shake uncontrollably. She still had no idea what he was trying to do by keeping her close to him, but she knew it was definitely not good. And she was absolutely sure that her nerves would not withstand several afternoons in his presence.

She lay there for a few minutes, trying to calm down her nerves, to no avail. In one day, she had learnt a tremendous amount of things, the location of a new Horcrux being the most important one, but she was unable to do anything. Unless she also ended up meeting Severus Snape in the Dark Lord's study. He could then read this information directly in her mind, and pass it to the rebels. That may work.

This little hope motivated her more surely than all her previous whines and she rose slowly. She would be on her own until the next day and she needed to make good use of this time. It had been too long since she had tried to master wandless magic, and opening the damn door of her suite seemed like a good enough objective.

Setting up in front of the door she imagined how wonderful it would be if she managed to get out of the room, to pick up Fred, Susan and Padma and to leave this awful place. She raised her hand and started to practice.

oOoOoOo

Few hours later Voldemort was in a small village in Slovakia, facing a house protected by many wards. Despite not being able to find Seth's amulet – it seemed that it would take him longer than what he had initially thought – the rest of the day had satisfied him. Lucius and Tyler had for once brought some good news, and Hermione would behave as long as he threatened her friends.

And before going to China to track the amulet, he was going to retrieve the elder's wand from Gregorovitch. Or make him confess to whom he had transmitted it.

oOoOoOo

 **AN:** See you next week :)


	20. Chapter 20

Hi everyone,

Here is a new chapter (I like this one quite a lot personally).

As always, thank you very much for the reviews :)

Have a nice day,

Perhentian

oOoOoOo

 **Chapter 20 - August 1999**

Voldemort thoughtfully looked at the clock in his study, and hesitated to call Hermione's house-elf. Lucius and Tyler had seen the girl in his study the day before. But neither of them would peddle this information outside of the inner circle if he did not explicitly give them the order to. And he did not want to give this order. He would rather keep Hermione's role as obscure as possible. Hence no one would dare to attack her for fear of his potential wrath. And no one would approach her either without knowing if interacting with her was socially acceptable.

So he would need to keep Hermione a little longer with him, just long enough for her existence to be known by all his Death Eaters. He sighed. He was not exactly overjoyed by the idea of having the Mudblood invading his study during several days. She always managed to waste his precious time at some point. The previous day they had talked more than half an hour about spells architecture, and had Lucius not arrived he would have lost even more time than that.

And she was always asking questions. It had been so peaceful in his castle without her the past months, and even if now she was careful not to upset him in any way, she would grew more comfortable with time and she would start again to ask questions. Interesting questions. And he would probably answer her, because she was the only one of his current acquaintances with more than two brain cells. That was infuriating.

If she dared to ask him any unwanted questions today he would force her to torture her own friends until she lost her mind. After all, Hermione Granger did not have to be sane at all for what he planned to do with her, and he might as well let her vegetate in some barricaded cell for five years for all he cared.

oOoOoOo

Like every other day since she was back at Slytherin Castle, the house-elf Adely appeared in her room in the morning to make sure Hermione was up. But for the first time the house elf actually had to wake her up. The previous day Hermione had spent a good part of the evening, and even of the night, to practice wandless Alohomora on the door. In vain. But she had tried until she was whacked, and her exhaustion had kept her nightmares about Fred, Padma, and Susan at bay for a few short hours.

Still feeling drained, she rubbed her eyes mechanically, and wished she could tell the elf to leave her alone for another couple of hours. But she knew that she would not be able to go back to sleep anyway. Still, one last minute of sleep was quite tempting, and Hermione closed her eyes.

"Miss Hermione has to get up," the house-elf panicked, shaking her shoulder. "The master is waiting for Miss Hermione."

Instantly Hermione was completely alert. She straightened up and scanned her room. Fortunately, there was no trace of the Dark Lord.

"Is he in the living room?" she asked with anguish.

"The master is waiting for Miss Hermione in his study. Adely must take Miss Hermione there as soon as Miss Hermione is ready."

She let out a relieved sigh. It was still better than to face Lord Voldemort only in her nightgown, an experience she definitely did not want to live. Quickly, she got out of the bed and headed for the bathroom. He might have given her some time to get ready, but letting the Dark Lord wait was clearly not a good way to start a pleasant day.

Barely ten minutes later she was cleaned and dressed. Adely had not left her side, helping her to get ready as quickly as possible. Mustering up her courage Hermione firmly took the house-elf's hand. Unlike the Dark Lord's side-along Apparition, the elf's one was neither silent nor comfortable, but it was just as effective and immediately the outlines of the Dark Lord's study appeared in front of her.

Glancing around, Hermione located the Dark Lord working at his desk. Reluctantly, she knelt in front of him. Even though she knew it was not going to happen, Hermione enjoyed for a moment imagining how she could make him pay later for this humiliation. At least it helped her not to stupidly lash out.

"Get up, Hermione."

His tone was indifferent and Hermione stood up apprehensively. She had long since learned how to decipher the Dark Lord's moods. If his voice was cruel, sarcastic, mocking, or amused, it was usually clear enough indications about what she could and what she could not do. But when his voice reflected nothing as it was now, she had absolutely no idea what would push him over the edge.

"Sit down, and do not waste my time," he ordered.

He had gestured to the armchairs by the fireplace, and Hermione complied after a brief second of hesitation. The Dark Lord had already gone back to whatever he was doing previously. And while she was cautiously sitting down in the same place as the day before, all her notes and books having once more appeared on the coffee table, Hermione felt particularly uncomfortable.

Why did he make her come here if he visibly had nothing to say to her? He had to have some plan, some reason to do that, and it worried Hermione more and more not to understand what he was doing. But he obviously did not seem in the mood to tolerate her questions, and Hermione grabbed her notes, her quill, and the book she was studying and tried to concentrate.

oOoOoOo

The morning passed excruciatingly slowly and not once did the Dark Lord talked to Hermione. If the latter did not manage to relax, convinced that this whole situation was some kind of trap, she still cheered up when she realized that she was once more witnessing the Death Eaters reports to Lord Voldemort.

Antonin Dolohov and Amycus Carrow had come during the morning, and if there were not both particularly hateful people, guilty of many crimes, she may have pitied them. Voldemort was far from being a champion in compassionate leadership…

The two Death Eaters had been surprised by her presence, but Voldemort had each time stated laconically "Do not pay attention to my guest". None of them had been stupid enough to ask any question.

When it had been almost lunchtime the Dark Lord had sent her back to her room while he was doing Merlin knew what, but in the middle of the afternoon he had summoned her back to his study again, without any explanation. The afternoon hours had been calmer, and the evening was approaching when luck smile upon Hermione. The next visitor to grace the Dark Lord's study was the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

Hermione had to use all her self-control to show Severus Snape as much indifference as she had shown to the other Death Eaters. She was relieved to learn that his position as a spy had not been compromised, and she was almost euphoric to see him in person.

He was as sinister as usual, and knelt stiffly in front of the Dark Lord. She had to wait until he got up to meet his eyes. Hoping that her face was a blank mask, Hermione pushed on the front of her mind what she had learnt about Nagini.

"Miss Granger," he greeted her curtly.

Hermione replied with an allegedly disinterested nod, and Severus Snape turned away from her. There was no indication that he had understood her message, but Hermione strongly hoped that it was the case. It would be perfect if she could continue to pass on information to him, to pass on everything she could learn by spending her days with the Dark Lord.

oOoOoOo

Voldemort had sent the Mudblood away before diner, and in the early evening he was enjoying the loneliness of his study. He took advantage of the calm to look thoroughly through the newspapers' extracts in front of him. Ever since he had seen the face of the elder wand's thief in Gregorovitch's mind he could not help but think that he had seen it before. But the memory of the theft was old. 1907. It was well before his own birth. So how could this face be so familiar?

A young blond man, probably coming from eastern Europe, who should have become at least partially famous. And who must have been around 60 when he was a teenager. It was in a German newspaper that he finally found a picture of a young man looking alike the one of the memory, a school picture from Durmstrang, in the middle of a 1946 article about the beginnings of the Second World War.

"No way," he murmured to himself.

If it really was Grindelwald, it would be almost too easy... Whoever said Grindelwald said Dumbledore, and he knew perfectly well where was the wand of his former opponent. It was definitely a worthy trail if it was true. He needed to check if it was indeed the former Dark Lord who had stolen the elder wand from Gregorovitch.

Only a few minutes later Lord Voldemort was in Germany, and was looking at the gloomy fortress in front of him. Nurmengard Castle, built by Grindelwald, had ended up being his own prison. Voldemort had a disdainful thought for the older dark wizard, not even able to escape from his own castle. He slowly rounded the jet black high walls, and approached the tallest tower.

There was nothing exceptional about the magic surrounding it. Strong wards, certainly, but nothing he can not cross with the help of his wand. With a wrist movement Voldemort took off, right to the window at the very top of the tower. It still took him a while to manipulate the wards to let him pass, the most twisted clearly bearing the signature of Albus Dumbledore. But finally he slipped through the opening of the window, sliding between the bars in the manner of a snake, and fell softly on the ground.

The emaciated figure of Gellert Grindelwald straightened slightly and looked at him with a smile.

"It's been a long time," he said. "Too busy to visit a poor old dark wizard?"

Voldemort was immediately annoyed by his familiarity. He had visited the man once after his coup. He had even offered him to integrate his ranks, but the man had looked down on him and told him he was fine where he was, thank you very much. Voldemort had concluded that Grindelwald could as well die in prison for all he cared, and he had not thought about him since that day.

"You can say that," he replied coldly.

"Hu hu hu," Grindelwald said with an even wider smile, revealing that an important part of his teeth were missing.

He did not add anything and the silence hovered between them for a few seconds.

"I am looking for the elder wand Gellert," Voldemort announced casually.

The smile disappeared for a moment from the prisoner's pallid face, before he suddenly burst out laughing.

"It seems that the Deathly Hallows still bring me trouble even when I'm no longer looking for them..."

Voldemort tensed. Grindelwald had just given him a lot of information in a few words. He indeed had had the elder wand, Voldemort had not been mistaken. But the Deathly Hallows, really? Grindelwald had seriously believed these children tales to be true?

"If Albus was still alive," Grindelwald continued, giving him an accusing look, "he would have been greatly amused. He is lucky though, it's not even the possession of the wand that has been a bad omen for him. Or perhaps it has been in some way…"

And Gellert Grindelwald burst out laughing again. Voldemort kept a neutral face. He wondered what could have made the man so talkative, whereas a decade ago he was haughty and as high and mighty as possible. Voldemort shred apart Gellert's Occlumency wards and he was slightly taken aback by what he found in the former Dark Lord's mind.

Thus, Grindelwald had fallen into madness because he had not had the opportunity to speak to a single living soul since Albus Dumbledore had died twelve years ago. Albus Dumbledore who had visited him regularly. Albus Dumbledore with whom he had long ago begun his quest for the Deathly Hallows. Albus Dumbledore with whom he had had a romantic relationship.

"I hope the wand will also curse its next owner," Grindelwald said, dusting one of his sleeves absently.

Voldemort immediately pointed his wand at the wizard.

"Tell me what you know about the elder wand," he ordered.

"Me?" Grindelwald said with astonishment. "But I don't know anything. The elder wand was powerful, beyond what I had imagined. But it did not stop Albus from besting me."

"And the other hallows?"

"Never found them," Grindelwald said with a groan.

He was not lying, and Voldemort absently twirled his wand between his fingers. He had always considered the Deathly Hallows as nothing more than a children's tale. While the story was enticing, it was a bit too juicy. To know that this was what was behind Grindelwald's rise to power, and especially that even the so holy and so _light_ Albus Dumbledore had been interested in them, gave a little more worth to this tale. The Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone, and the Cloak of Invisibility.

After his victory over Grindelwald, Albus Dumbledore had taken possession of the death stick, without revealing to anyone the exact nature of his new wand. But he must not have had the other hallows, since he was now dead. Or at least not the other two together. He could have possessed either the stone or the cloak.

Voldemort wondered if he had ever seen Albus Dumbledore use an invisibility cloak, or carry any stone. No, he could not connect any of the other two so-called Deathly Hallows to his former opponent. But the thought of the cloak brought a memory to the surface. He remembered seeing in Hermione's memories Harry Potter disappear under an invisibility cloak that seemed very powerful. That same cloak that Harry Potter was probably wearing before their duel in Carrow Manor. That he had removed at the same time as Voldemort had dropped their disillusionment charms, no doubt to protect it. And why protect it if it was not something special?

"Well, I've told you everything I knew," Grindelwald said, interrupting his thoughts. "Would you feel kind enough to grant me one last wish my dear Tom?"

"Avada Kedavra."

He had casted the spell instinctively, and Voldemort diverted it at the very last moment. The deadly jet of green light crashed into one of walls, exploding it and hence significantly enlarging the room. Furious, he immediately sent a Cruciatus to Grindelwald. No one had the right to call him that name without paying for it, especially if it was to try to make him break his mage's oath.

"I would have... at least... tried..." Grindelwald gasped as he lifted his Cruciatus. "I would have… loved... to know... that all the others... were going to attack you... for killing another poor… defenceless mage."

His toothless smile was particularly horrifying, and Voldemort contemplated for a moment to kill him all the same, and to worry about the other magi afterwards.

"Do you think you can duel Maria, Alexandra, Shane and Dae-Ho at the same time? Um, I do not know if I'll bet on them or on you," Grindelwald continued, looking thoughtfully at the ceiling. "You're not a bad dueller but..."

"Stupefy. Venas Patiens."

Grindelwald was not going to be particularly pleased when he would regain consciousness, and the idea of the old dark wizard spending the rest of his life suffering from his curse allowed Voldemort to relegate Grindelwald's exasperating remarks to the background. A satisfied smile stretched his lips. Not only did he now know where to find the elder wand, but he potentially had a new way to reach immortality. All he had to do was to check in Hermione's memories if Potter's invisibility cloak was indeed special. If that was the case, he would know where the second relic was, and would be able to retrieve it if he ever put his hand on the resurrection stone.

oOoOoOo

When Voldemort had finally sent Hermione back to her room at the end of the afternoon he had not given her any information about when he would be back, but Hermione had guessed that he would not summon her again before the next day.

She had read a lot more during the evening – it was far less stressful than in the Dark Lord's study and she had been far more efficient –, but now it was completely dark outside, and even the hot temperature of this middle of August was less present, so she decided to switch to wandless magic practice.

With renewed determination, Hermione brought one of the armchairs closer to the door, sat down and concentrated. After a while she was able to distinctly feel the magic of the door and she held out her right hand in front of her.

"Alohomora!" she said.

She knew it had not worked even before she got up to check the door. She knew she was missing something crucial for her spell to work, but she did not understand what. She tried to put more power in her spell, to make wider movements with her hand, to better visualize the effect in her head, but nothing worked.

"Alohomora, Alohomora, Alohomora," she casted.

She was standing up now, not bothering to sit down between each try, and she was starting to be really frustrated. Frustrated by her failures and her helplessness.

"You are not doing this correctly," a cold voice behind her said.

Hermione turned around with a start and immediately noticed the Dark Lord, complacently settled in an armchair. He had once again hidden his magical aura so that she could not feel his presence and it only exacerbated her frustration. Before it morphed into fear. She could hardly pretend that her attempts to open the door were innocent.

She remained standing, frozen on the spot, her right arm still lifted to cast the spell. Recovering slightly, she finally dropped her arm and knelt anxiously. She had rapidly studied his posture and his face, and he seemed in a much better mood than during the day. But despite the fact that it had surely protected her from a Cruciatus until now, it angered her. She did not want his projects, whatever they were, to work. Especially if they may involve the capture of any of her friends.

She heard him stand up and draw nearer and an apprehensive shudder chilled her back. He stopped right in front of her, let a few seconds of uncertainty hang in the air, and finally, to her utmost surprise, he lowered himself at her level. She felt his hand in her hair and she flinched. But already Voldemort was pulling her hair back brutally and she found herself looking straight into his eyes.

She immediately understood what he wanted to do and hurried to bury Severus Snape and the Horcruxes under a mountain of useless memories. The power of his legilimency attack startled her less than the first time, but the pain was just as unbearable. As for the first attack, she quickly let him overflow her first Occlumency walls.

... Harry disappearing under his invisibility cloak as they prepared to enter Carrow Manor...

... Harry carefully storing his invisibility cloak in his bag...

A dull anguish spread in Hermione. The Dark Lord attack had visibly nothing to do with her attempts to free Fred, Susan and Padma and then run away.

... Harry showing her for the first time his invisibility cloak...

... The feeling of the cloak between her fingers...

He was looking for the cloak, Hermione understood, but it was too late to try to protect anything, and she felt more and more panicked.

... Harry claiming that the cloak had been in his family for several generations, stubborn in front of her dubious look...

Voldemort came out of her mind and Hermione struggled to stay on her knees and not to collapse completely on the floor. Despite the pain, she kept her eyes open, and saw the Dark Lord get up with a satisfied smile on his face. So he was indeed looking for Harry's cloak of invisibility… But why?

Her mind half numb with pain, Hermione tried desperately to find what could motivate the Dark Lord. Cloaks of invisibility were rare, it was true, but he was the sole ruler of the Magical Alliance. He could get a dozen in the blink of an eye if he wanted to. And he was undoubtedly able to hide himself perfectly even without using any cloak.

Her legs still shaking, Hermione got up when the Dark Lord instructed her to, and saw him nonchalantly took place in one of the armchairs. Why was he focusing on Harry's cloak? Was it related to the strange phenomenon that had occurred between their wands? Would he try to track down Harry even more intensively now?

"You are not mastering wandless spells because you are focussing on the wrong magic," the Dark Lord said.

Hermione blinked stupidly before forcing herself to concentrate on what he was saying. At least as long as he was in her presence he was not chasing her friend.

"Focussing on the wrong magic, my Lord?" she asked.

Her voice had been quavering and Hermione swore in her head at her inability to remain composed. She absolutely had to control her reactions if she wanted to survive.

"Sit down," Voldemort ordered curtly, pointing to the armchair next to his.

Hermione sat down carefully and looked at him. Was he really going to teach her wandless magic?

"When you were casting your spell, you were focussing on the door's magic, which is plainly stupid. How do you intend to cast a wandless spell on a non-magical object?"

"I… I don't know, my Lord" Hermione said reluctantly when she realized he was waiting for an answer.

His disdainful look made her feel even dumber.

"Have you really taken the time to thought about it Hermione? Or have you just rushed to conclusions? It is _your_ magic that should reach the object, not the other way around."

"It worked when I summoned my wand, my Lord," Hermione replied, a bit miffed.

"Really?" The Dark Lord replied sarcastically. "Then prove it."

He made Hermione's wand appear in the palm of his left hand, just out of reach, and the girl's eyes immediately focussed on it.

"It is yours if you manage to get it," the Dark Lord taunted.

She raised her right hand and concentrated, determined to prove him wrong.

"Accio wand!"

But it did not move, and the Dark Lord gave her a disdainfully sweet smile as he made her wand disappear again.

"The only reason your pitiful spell has worked at all when we duelled was because of the intensity of your fear Hermione, and because your wand's magic is more strongly tied to yours than the magic of any other object."

"But how could I project my own magic, my Lord?" Hermione asked.

"Maybe you cannot," he said scornfully. "Wandless magic is a very difficult field, and you are not really at the correct side of the ladder from a wizarding perspective."

His remark hurt her feelings far stronger than she would have liked. She indeed was a Mudblood, and she did not even go to Hogwarts. But she had still managed to reach an acceptable level in less than a year, and all the rebels had always told her that they found her particularly intelligent. Her irritation must have been quite visible, for the Dark Lord's smile had visibly grown.

"Give me your right hand," he ordered coldly.

Hermione looked at him suspiciously, before cautiously reaching for him. She was still too slow apparently, as he grabbed her hand roughly and intertwined his fingers with hers. She winced at this contact and her heart fastened as she panicked. Then she felt the Dark Lord's magic flow through her hand and her breath got caught into her throat.

Nothing had prepared her for this. There was a whole world between detecting the presence of the Dark Lord's magic, and feeling it flow between her fingers. Hermione felt dizzy being confronted with this raw magic, in front of its sheer power. Unconsciously she leaned slightly towards the Dark Lord, trying to immerse herself even more in his magic.

She distinctly perceived the moment when he focused his magic on one of the books on the table in front of them. This connection he established between the object and himself. The next moment, the book was levitating over the table.

Hermione was gaping and her eyes were bulging but she did not care. His power was unequivocally staggering. Fascinating. Attractive. The control he exerted over his magic was absolute. He seemed to be doing it so easily that Hermione felt a sharp hint of jealousy. No wand, no movement, no incantation were even needed for his spells. As if the magic itself obeyed his rules and not the other way around.

"Do you understand how it works now?"

"Yes, my Lord," Hermione answered mechanically.

"Wonderful," the Dark Lord commented sarcastically. "If your insignificant magical abilities ever allow you to master this, let me know immediately."

The Dark Lord then withdrew his hand and the connection between them broke abruptly. A muffled scream escaped Hermione's lips before she could hold it back. She almost tried to catch the Dark Lord's hand but recovered and brought back her own hand against her chest, frightened by her reaction.

But even without the direct contact, now that she had felt his magic so closely, it was as if she was able to perceive it with more acuteness. She had thought that she could detect magical auras, but now she knew that she had not even touched the surface of the discipline.

She saw the Dark Lord get up calmly, and a cold smile appeared on his lips. She wanted to ask him several questions, ask him how he could have such level of mastery over his magic, but he cut her off with a dry gesture.

"I have to go Hermione. But do not worry, we will see each other soon enough."

The next moment he Apparated away and Hermione dropped back into one of the chairs. She would never have thought it could be possible to be so powerful. And she would never have thought it would intrigue her so much. And now that he was gone, it was as if everything else was totally dull and devoid of interest. Hermione scowled. Merlin, her own thoughts disgusted her.

oOoOoOo

Voldemort was strolling in Godric's Hollow's streets. He was the only one to wander outside so late in the evening and it suited him perfectly. He was euphoric. He was going to violate Albus Dumbledore's grave and the elder wand would be his. And when the rebels would be caught he would get the second Deathly Hollow. He had not even been looking for a way to secure his immortality by visiting Grindelwald, and here Gellert had handed him a new way on a silver platter. It seemed Fate herself wanted the whole world to be under his rule.

And on top of that, he had once again had confirmation that he was not mistaken. Hermione would be perfectly suited to wear Seth's amulet. Her magic had automatically mingled with his when he had let her feel it. It was almost sacrilegious to ruin such potential. She had everything that was needed to become a great witch. And her emotions when she had felt his power. Greed. Fascination. Envy. Very interesting…

oOoOoOo

 **AN:** Thank you for reading this chapter. See you next week :)


	21. Chapter 21

Hi everyone,

Thanks a lot for all the reviews / favs / alerts.

I hope you will enjoy the next chapter.

Have a nice day,

Perhentian

oOoOoOo

 **Chapter 21 - August 1999**

"Destructo!"

The stele displaying "Albus Perceval Wulfric Brian Dumbledore" exploded, but it did not appease Lord Voldemort. In his left hand was Albus Dumbledore's wand. His first wand, the one he should have picked up when he first went to Hogwarts as an eleven year's old boy, the one he still had when he had taught transfiguration to the future Dark Lord. A small wand that did not look like much, nothing to do with the prestigious outline of the elder wand.

What could Dumbledore have done with this stupid elder wand? He should have gotten rid of it just before their final duel, because Voldemort was sure the old coot was still using the elder wand a few days prior, when he had still thought that he could do something to stop Lord Voldemort...

With a distracted gesture he repaired the stele and repositioned it above the tomb, which closed with a dry snapping sound. In spite of his desire to let his enemy's body rot in the open air, nobody should know that he had come here tonight. If he had to grant something to Dumbledore, it was that the old fool had been smart enough to keep his possession of the elder wand a secret.

oOoOoOo

Hermione next days at Slytherin Castle were spent in growing confusion about Voldemort's plans for her. The Dark Lord regularly requested her presence in his study, sometimes for a mere half-hour, sometimes for a whole afternoon. As during her previous captivity the Dark Lord's mood ranged from cold indifference to pure rage, and Hermione tried her best not to be the recipient of his anger.

But unlike his Death Eaters, who were obviously never up to Lord Voldemort's standards, Hermione was less often the unfortunate victim of his fury. When he was not really in the mood to tolerate her, he usually immediately requested her leave his study. The rest of the time he paid her no attention at all, interrupting his work only when she dared to ask him a question about a theory that seemed too obscure to her.

Asking him questions was like playing Russian roulette. His answer could be a Cruciatus curse, or a particularly detailed explanation, with the same kind of randomness. Sometimes he would even pause his work to come closer to her. He would then sit in front of her and use several books to reference his explanations. This really was the worst case scenario, even worse than receiving a Crucio for her boldness. His closeness was making her extraordinarily uncomfortable now that she had grasped his sheer power. Each time he was too close it was as if she was being suffocated by his magic, and she always had to struggle against her desire to feel his magic flow through her again.

And to make the matter worse, she knew the Dark Lord was well aware of her shameful thoughts. Whereas previously he had always kept his distance with her, now he did not hesitate to sit or to stand a little too close to her to make her uncomfortable, a scornful smile on his lips. And each time Hermione struggled to act as if she was unaffected.

Unsurprisingly, the Dark Lord no longer trained her to duel. Even if for some unfathomable reason he still insisted that she sharpened her knowledge of magical theory, supplying her with an impressive quantity of books, of which he regularly demanded the most detailed summaries. And Hermione had to admit that she was more than glad to be able to decipher such rare and valuable books.

But the books and their fascinating discussions did not make her forget who she was dealing with. The words "my Lord" scratched her mouth every time she had to pronounce them, and when she knelt in front of him she had to remind herself than spatting at him was not the most intelligent way to deal with the situation, even if it surely was a tempting one. She would get more out of it if she played the part of the obedient pawn.

One day when the Dark Lord had been in a better mood than usual she had even managed to get to quickly see Fred, Susan and Padma, even though she had not had the opportunity to talk to them. Their health was far from perfect, but they were alive, and if their living conditions were frighteningly scarce at least they were not anymore in the lugubrious dungeon where she had first seen them. However, she knew perfectly well that nothing guaranteed her that Voldemort would not kill them one day in a fit of anger, or simply out of boredom.

oOoOoOo

The morning of Thursday the 26th of August, Hermione was mourning in her room. It had been a year since the day she had been torn from her quiet life as a mere Muggle. She had gone through ups and downs during this year, she had suffered and she had been happy, she had even become a more or less accomplished witch. But in the end, she had the dreadful feeling that everything that had happened between her abduction and the present day had been for nothing, as she was now back to the starting point.

It had been a year since she had seen her parents or her muggle friends, and she missed them. She knew that everyone thought her dead, and it was probably better, but she would have given a lot to be able to see them again.

Adely had not made her Apparate in the Dark Lord's study this morning, and Hermione wondered if Voldemort was away or just busy with something else. She absently flipped through the Arithmancy book right in front of her, but she definitely was not in the mood to work.

She stood up from the armchair in which she usually studied and pensively approached the door of her suite. She mostly practiced wandless magic in the evenings, dedicating her days for the Dark Lord's endless books, but today she was not feeling like following this routine as usual. She needed some change.

She moved to the closest chair to the door, sat cross-legged, and focused on her own magic. As always, it took her a lot of time before being satisfied with how it responded to her. And as always, she could not manage to move her magic like the Dark Lord had done.

"Aargh!" she grunted inelegantly in frustration.

She glared at the door and impatiently patted the armrest of the chair with her right hand. She refused to conclude that she was not able to do wandless magic. But she had to admit that what had seemed so easy when the Dark Lord had shown it was not so easily redone.

"Have you really taken the time to thought about it Hermione? Or have you just rushed to conclusions? It is _your_ magic that should reach the object, not the other way around." She sarcastically mimicked the Dark Lord. "And how the hell am I supposed to have my magic reaching the object?"

She glowered at the door again. And then she decided that the Dark Lord's advice was just utter rubbish. She focused again on her own magic, but once satisfied with the result she simultaneously focused on the door. She was just beginning to delve into Slytherin Castle's magic when she lost the control she had over her own magic.

She spent all the morning trying to balance her control over her own magic, and her control over the castle's magic around her, but as soon as she managed this delicate balance she knew she had succeeded. With a goal as clearly defined as it was now, her magic was flowing by itself towards the door.

"Alohomora," she said softly.

A faint sound was heard and the door opened. Hermione stayed for a moment in her chair without moving. There were so many things she could do with this relative freedom. She could search for Fred, Susan and Padma, but firstly, she was not sure to find them, and secondly, she had needed so much time to open a simple door that it was clear she would not be able to defend her three friends wandlessly if anything happened. She could also try to escape on her own and abandon her friends but she was not a coward. Sighing, Hermione stood up and resigned herself to follow the Dark Lord's orders.

"Adely," she called.

The house elf immediately appeared.

"Miss Hermione needs Adely?"

"The Dark Lord has asked me to let him know as soon as I managed to master wandless magic. Could you please tell him that it is done?"

The house elf looked at her with fearful eyes.

"Adely cannot Miss Hermione, Adely is not allowed to disturb the Dark Lord on her own," the house-elf said, shaking her head resolutely from left to right.

Then the house-elf quickly disappeared with a pop and Hermione sighed, exasperated. She could not really blame the house-elf, the Dark Lord having already proved that he had no regard at all for house-elves lives. But she had now hit a snag. The Dark Lord had asked to be notified immediately, and the only way she had to do so after Adely's refusal was to go to the Dark Lord's study by herself. But there was still a risk that the Dark Lord would kill her for having wandered down the halls without his authorization…

She weighed her options in her head, before deciding that following the Dark Lord's orders to the letter probably was the least risky solution. Hence she leaved her room, stepping carefully into the hallway. She turned left, took a few steps forward and stopped. She had only walked twice from her room to the Dark Lord's study, and both times were several months ago with the guidance of Tyler Greengrass. Damn, she even was barely standing the first time, how was she supposed to remember the correct path now? Swearing between her teeth, Hermione tried to head toward her destination solely helped by her flickering memories.

After about ten minutes, it was obvious that she was lost. She was pretty sure to be in the correct wing, but she could not find the study, even if she would have sworn it should be somewhere on her right, in a corridor that obviously did not exist. She decided to go down one floor, although she was certain the study was on the same floor as her room, just to be sure. She had barely arrived at the bottom of the stairs when she realized that the study definitely was not on this floor. The decoration and even the atmosphere were quite different, less luxurious, less opulent, and less solemn.

Hermione suddenly felt a wizard's magical aura on her right. Before she could manage to quickly retreat, Bellatrix Lestrange emerged from the hallway, walking with a predatory gait.

"Who are you?" Bellatrix immediately asked.

Even before Hermione could formulate a coherent thought the other witch had pulled out her wand and was pointing it at her. She desperately reviewed what she could say to forestall the situation, before remembering that most Death Eaters now knew her by name. Did this information reach Bellatrix? Would it be sufficient to protect her?

"I'm Hermione, and I'm looking for the Dark Lord's study."

Bellatrix tilted her head to the side, looking at her as if she was insane, and Hermione anxiously realized that her name was not ringing any bell to her.

"Where have I seen you before?" Bellatrix asked, narrowing her eyes.

Hermione froze. It was the first time Bellatrix was seeing her without any mask or concealment spell, and Hermione was sure the other witch had no way to identify her.

"We never met," she answered with false assurance.

"I think you're a liar…" Bellatrix said slowly. "A little liar I just caught wandering where he shouldn't be."

Hermione felt her hands start to shake slightly. She had no idea how she could get out of this unscathed. Confronting Bellatrix Lestrange with a wand was already dangerous. But without a wand? It was just suicide!

"Crucio," Bellatrix casted.

Hermione collapsed in pain as soon as the curse hit her and she screamed while Bellatrix laughed heartily. When Bellatrix's spell stopped she struggled to get herself up, but the witch had already swopped down on her, and with one hand she stopped her from getting up, her demented face a few inches from Hermione's.

"So who are you, huh? A pretty little thief?" Bellatrix cooed. "Or would meeting the Dark Lord be the highlight of your miserable life and you tried to sneak up on him?"

Hermione almost wanted to burst out laughing. The highlight of her miserable life would rather be getting rid of the Dark Lord, and the sooner the better.

"You're a lucky little witch thought; I was on my way to see him. You'll be able to fulfil your dream before dying!" Bellatrix spat.

Hermione relaxed imperceptibly. She still preferred to face the Dark Lord rather than to be alone with this insane witch. And Hermione almost wanted to bang her head against the wall at that thought. Since when did she start considering the Dark Lord as a protection from anything?

Bellatrix lifted her up and dragged her away, holding her with one hand and ferociously sticking her wand in her neck. She made her go up the stairs, turn to the right, and take a corridor that Hermione was sure was not there before. Quickly they were in front of the Dark Lord's study's doors, and Hermione tightened her lips in frustration. How was she supposed to find the study if the corridor leading to it was capricious?

"Bellatrix Lestrange requests an audience," the witch announced to the painting in a confident voice.

And the doors opened.

oOoOoOo

Since dawn Lord Voldemort had isolated himself in his study with strict orders not to be disturbed, except by his inner circle Death Eaters. He had opened the access from his study to his personal library, and had retrieved several books on magical auras polarity, the theory behind Seth's amulet.

Those were books written in the 70s, and Voldemort wanted to go through them again to try to guess whether or not their author was in possession of Seth's amulet at that time. Because if he was now certain that it had indeed been Zhao Ming, Maria's husband, who had kept the amulet for a few years, he was not sure was had happened to the amulet afterwards.

After several hours of research, he finally found an interesting paragraph.

"The previous chapters have demonstrated that two magical auras can be perfectly opposed in terms of polarity, and we will thus now focus on the peculiarities of this configuration. One of the most speculative theory claims that this configuration may allow, thanks to specific artefacts, soul transfers. However, for these theories to work, it would require not only magical auras of opposite polarities, but also a similar level of power between the two wizards, limiting drastically the candidates. According to…"

There was no direct quotation of Seth's amulet of course; otherwise he would have remembered it far sooner. But it would have been difficult for the author to write such a theory without at least knowing Seth's amulet existence. Hence Zhao and Maria may have let some of their Chinese friends study the amulet… but had they kept the amulet itself in the end or had they transferred it to someone else?

"Master, Bellatrix Lestrange is requesting an audience," the magical painted snake guarding the doors of his study suddenly said in Parseltongue.

Voldemort immediately closed the books and focussed on the Magical Alliance matters. He had had little contact with Bellatrix since the beginning of the month, giving her full freedom to pursue the rebels to the best of her abilities. He really hoped for her sake that she was bringing him good news; he highly disliked being disturbed when he was researching something. He motioned to the painting to let her in and watched with boredom as the doors opened.

His boredom evaporated as soon as he saw a triumphant Bellatrix Lestrange pushing a quite angry Hermione Granger in front of her, sticking her wand into the neck of the younger witch. Except for when he had witnessed their fight in Bellatrix' memory, it was the first time he was seeing the two witches side by side. The contrast could not have been more striking.

Bellatrix' unruly magic was crackling all around her, a visible evidence of her exaltation and self-assurance. She was his most devoted lieutenant, his occasional lover, his favourite, and she knew it. On the other hand, in spite of Hermione's obvious annoyance, her magic fluttered quietly, hiding her power beneath seemingly harmless waves.

He met the Mudblood's gaze, and he smiled sarcastically as he read Hermione's exasperation. How did she manage to find herself in Bellatrix's claws?

"My Lord," Bellatrix began. "I found this little liar in the stairs; she was trying to spy on you!"

Voldemort turned his gaze to Bellatrix, who violently pushed Hermione to the floor. The Mudblood barely had the time to put her hands in front of her before crashing very ungraciously at his feet, while Bellatrix knelt elegantly beside her.

With a quick movement, Hermione moved slightly out of Bellatrix' reach and got up. But Bellatrix' reflexes had nothing to envy to Hermione's, and the dark-haired witch got up in the blink of an eye, pointed her wand at the Mudblood, and hurled a Cruciatus in the same stride.

However, the spell never reached Hermione, disintegrating at full speed in mid-air, and the two witches looked with surprise at Lord Voldemort.

"That's enough," the Dark Lord said dryly.

"But my Lord, she is one of the rebels!"

Hermione looked at Bellatrix with confusion.

"Really?" Voldemort asked, his tone laced with boredom.

"She tried to break into my manor at the beginning of the month, I've recognized her magic," Bellatrix stated proudly.

Hermione surprised expression morphed to a more annoyed and angered one, and Voldemort smiled sarcastically. He was almost tempted to let the two witches duel. He was pretty sure he would enjoy the show. But Bellatrix may kill Hermione in a frenzy and that was absolutely out of the question.

"Bella, forget Hermione," he ordered. "What do you want?"

oOoOoOo

Hermione took care to regularly turn a page of the book she was pretending to read, but all her attention was focused on what Bellatrix Lestrange was saying. At last she was having some news about the rebels, and she did not want to lose any part of it.

"...they were hiding in the ancestral manor of this harpy, McGonagall, when we ambushed them."

"Have you captured any of them?"

The Dark Lord's voice was clearly threatening.

"Mad-Eye is dead. And we killed Amelia Bones too."

Hermione had never met them, but she felt her hands squeezed the book harder in anger. The joy with which Bellatrix Lestrange spoke of their death made her want to throw up, it was downright disgusting.

"I wanted to announce the death of this dear Amelia to her niece but I was not able to find her in the dungeons. Have you killed her, my Lord?"

"And Harry Potter?" Voldemort asked without answering to Bellatrix' question.

Hermione's heart missed a beat and her vision became almost blurred with the apprehension that gripped her. Not Harry, she begged in her head. Please not Harry, please not Harry, please not Harry.

"He escaped, my Lord," Bellatrix bitterly replied.

Hermione held back a relieved cry, and relished in the anger she could spot on the Dark Lord's perfect face. She even hoped for a moment that he would kill Bellatrix in a fit of rage. It would serve her right, for all the wizards and witches she had murdered. But no, Voldemort did not even send her a little Crucio.

"...they have fled to another place, and I will need more time to locate them now."

Hermione focused again on what the witch was saying. She would dream about her death later.

oOoOoOo

When Bellatrix Lestrange leaved the Dark Lord's study about ten minutes later, Hermione was both sad and angered. A part of her, the rational part, argued that the situation was not so bad, that it could have been even worse. Most of the rebels were still free, out of reach of both Bellatrix Lestrange and Lord Voldemort. But the deaths she had learned about, Emeline Vance, Xenophilius Lovegood, Alastor Moody, Amelia Bones, in addition to the captivity of Fred, Susan and Padma, were already too much.

So when she saw the Dark Lord approach her, she had to make a monstrous effort to keep her face neutral, knowing that she already had enough troubles without adding a fit of rage to it. He stopped right in front of her, looking at her silently, and she held his gaze unblinkingly.

"Why were you wandering in the castle?" he finally asked in a cold tone.

"I was only obeying your orders, my Lord," she replied defiantly.

His anger to her less than adequate answer was evident, and she quickly continued.

"You told me to let you know immediately if I managed to master wandless magic, and your elf has refused to be my messenger."

Voldemort stared at her, unable to detect a lie in her words. So she really had been able to master what he had showed her? Without any further explanation? He had been right not to resume their duelling practices, he would not want her to progress enough to start being threat to him. At least not until Seth's amulet had not served its purpose.

"Really Hermione? It took you so much time to master it? But I probably should not have had such high expectations for you; I should have expected to be disappointed..."

Hermione's eyes flashed and a smirk appeared on the Dark Lord's lips.

"I'm pretty sure that you were certain that I would fail. Otherwise you would have taken care to put an alarm on my door," the girl replied.

Voldemort moved even closer to her, his face just inches away from hers, and they stared at each other without a word, before the Dark Lord turned away abruptly.

"Since you are now able to walk by yourself in the castle, get out of there," he snapped, pointing to the door. "And I do not advise you to get lost on your way back."

oOoOoOo

"Tyler!" screeched an imperious voice.

Tyler Greengrass looked up from the papers Lucius had just given him and was met with the sight of Bellatrix angrily entering his Minister of Magic office, his secretary giving him a vaguely apologetic look. But already Bellatrix had slammed the door shut, isolating the three inner circle Death Eaters.

"Ah Lucius, you're here too? I'm so glad to see you."

Lucius seemed quite far from sharing her opinion.

"What do you want Bellatrix?" Tyler asked in a calm voice.

"Who is this 'Hermione'? What is she doing with _him_?"

The witch's voice was carrying death threats and Tyler refrained from rolling his eyes. So Bellatrix had finally met Hermione. And of course, she came to him with her questions, since the Dark Lord did not seem inclined to explain to anyone why he kept the girl with him.

"I don't know," he answered slowly. "Nobody really knows..."

"You have felt her aura, haven't you?"

Tyler nodded. He could see from the corner of his eye that Lucius also seemed very interested by the topic.

"I have also," Bellatrix said. "There was this strange feeling of déjà vu, and I immediately understood that it was not the first time I had met this girl. Not the first time at all! And the first time she was part of those rebels who tried to enter my manor!"

"Isn't it your husband's manor?" Lucius commented in a trailing voice.

Bellatrix ignored him regally, her gaze firmly fixed on Tyler's.

"I was not aware of that," Tyler said. "Have you told the Dark Lord?"

"Of course I have told him! But he has not reacted at all. And he has stopped me from throwing her a Cruciatus. Me! His most faithful Death Eater!"

She was furious.

"It's a shame," she ranted. "I'm sure even her aura is somehow fake. She must have managed to fool the Dark Lord!"

"Watch yourself Bellatrix, if he hears you..." Lucius began.

"You haven't felt her aura Lucius! It's impossible! She cannot have a magical aura more powerful than the one of a Black!

Ah, there it was, Tyler thought. Bellatrix was jealous. He almost pitied Hermione Granger. He had absolutely no idea what she was doing right now with the Dark Lord, but he could not possibly wish to anyone to be the object of Bellatrix's hatred. She was going to wait for the first opportunity to prove that she had no equal in torturing her enemies. Or in killing them.

"What is going on my dear sister-in-law? Are you afraid she will replace you?" Lucius scornfully asked her.

Bellatrix quickly pulled out her wand and pointed it at Lucius, who just burst out laughing.

"You wouldn't dare Bellatrix. Now let us work."

But far from lowering her wand, the witch moved briskly towards the blond aristocrat, sticking her wand in his neck. Lucius kept his haughty look, but Tyler noticed that he had slightly paled.

"But of course I would dare Lucius. Being married to my sister does not allow you to mock me."

"Stop this right now," Tyler said. "Lucius, as you have said so well, we do have work. And Bellatrix, neither of us has any idea of the relationship between this Hermione and the Dark Lord, so go bother someone else."

Bellatrix aimed her wand at him for a moment, then made it disappear into her sleeve and got out of his office, magically slamming the door behind her.

oOoOoOo

On the morning of Friday the 27th of August, Harry was awakened at dawn by Minerva McGonagall. She motioned to him to remain silent and to follow her. He reluctantly moved away Ginny's arms and got out of the warmth of his little bed. He put on a light sweater over his pyjamas and some socks and quickly followed his former transfiguration professor out of the room.

McGonagall led him to the study of the small house they had been occupying since the Death Eaters managed to take down McGonagall Manor. Upon entering, he was surprised to see Remus Lupin, visibly exhausted by the full moon night, but even more to see Severus Snape, and he suddenly understood better why McGonagall had come to wake him up so early in the morning.

He waited for her to add several confidentiality charms before speaking.

"Professor Snape, we have been quite worried for you!"

And he was not lying. After the disaster of the Carrow Manor's mission early August, McGonagall, Remus and he had been very anxious not to hear anything from their spy. They had managed to steal a copy at the Daily Prophet at some point, and the absence of any mention of the death or the disgrace of Hogwarts' headmaster had been reassuring, but they had still been afraid as the days passed without him contacting them.

"I was busy Potter," Snape answered coldly.

"Has anything happened to you Severus?" McGonagall asked.

"Nothing serious Minerva. But since your forced departure there has been a lot of work at Hogwarts for me to attend to, and the Dark Lord has been quite suspicious of everyone."

McGonagall nodded dryly.

"Severus," Lupin began. "Do you know anything about the fate of Fred Weasley, Susan Bones, Padma Patil or Hermione Granger?"

Harry's attention was all on Severus Snape, without daring to hope for any good news.

"Frederic, Susan and Padma have been lengthy tortured by Death Eaters, and the Dark Lord himself."

"Oh Merlin," McGonagall murmured.

"They have confessed everything they knew to my understanding," Snape continued, "and the Dark Lord has then announced that he would take care of their fate himself. I have not had any news of them since then."

The other three adults in the room exchanged a sad look. Snape's news left little hope of ever seeing the young people alive again.

"And Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Hermione is alive," Snape replied.

Harry was instantly relived.

"Are you sure?" Remus asked – he had been quite fond of the studious girl.

"I have seen her few days ago in the Dark Lord's study, comfortably seated in an armchair by the fireplace, surrounded by books and dressed more richly than most purebloods," Snape answered drily.

"What are you implying?" Harry scolded.

"Absolutely nothing, Potter."

The two glared at each other until Snape spoke in a trailing voice.

"She believes that she has found another Horcrux..."

"Another Horcrux?" Remus said in a surprised tone.

"Nagini, the Dark Lord's snake."

The other three sighed. It was not really good news as the snake always was at Slytherin Castle with its master.

"Have you talked to Hermione?" Harry asked, his concern for the young woman stronger than his interest in the Dark Lord's Horcruxes.

"We could hardly exchange more than a glance."

"Could we help her in any way?" Remus asked.

Snape shook his head. Harry waited for him to add something but nothing came and his anger rose. Why was Snape such an insensitive bastard?

"We will not abandon her!" he stated.

"And what do you plan to do Potter?" Snape answered mockingly. "Are you going to raid Slytherin Castle all by yourself? Perhaps even challenge the Dark Lord to a duel with you?"

Harry scowled and glared at him, but he knew that Snape was right.

"The Dark Lord obviously does not want to kill Miss Granger for the moment," Snape continued more calmly. "I will try to approach her, but it won't be easy. We will both be at risk if the Dark Lord suspects anything."

"We trust you to do your best, Severus," McGonagall said. "In the meantime we must do everything we can to find the remaining Horcruxes quickly. The current situation will soon be unsustainable."

"I know the first try has not been successful, but perhaps we should look into Borgin and Burkes again?" Harry suggested. "A lot of important objects have been traded through this shop…"

Snape somehow managed to snort scornfully but did not outright dismiss his idea. Or perhaps he simply did not have anything better to offer?

oOoOoOo

"May I help you, my Lord?"

"Do you think you know this castle better than I do Severus?" he answered sarcastically.

His Death Eater's expression remained blank, but Lord Voldemort had no doubt that he had understood his message.

"I remain at your service if you need me, my Lord," Severus Snape said, bowing slightly.

A moment later he had vanished somewhere and Voldemort was alone in the huge hall of Hogwarts. Even now, so many years after his own years here, he still felt at ease in the castle. Hogwarts had helped him become the exceptional being he was, so far above the other wizards.

Fortunately there was no idiotic student at Hogwarts during the summer months, and Voldemort was able to peacefully enjoy the castle's ancient magic as he walked down the halls. Soon he was on the seventh floor, in a place he knew very well. It was his conversation with Bellatrix who had reminded him that just like Minerva McGonagall, Albus Dumbledore had spent most of his life in Hogwarts. He had lived there until the very last days. And the castle truly was a wonderful place to hide something, he knew it very well.

"I need the place where everything is hidden... I need the place where everything is hidden... I need the place where everything is hidden..."

The doors to the Room of Hidden Things appeared in front of him, and Voldemort confidently stepped into it. It was exactly as he remembered it. Vast, messy, familiar. Before anything else he slipped into one of the many alleys, turned right and then left. There, on top of an old wavy wig, Ravenclaw's diadem was still lying, and Voldemort had a smug smile. He had placed many enchantments on the objects around his Horcrux to blur its magic, and they had obviously fulfilled their duties as Dumbledore had not even been able to detect that he had left one of his Horcruxes right under his crooker nose.

Satisfied, Voldemort turned away and walked toward what appeared to be the middle of the room. He wondered for a moment if the old fool had realized what exactly the Room of Hidden Things was, or if he had simply needed to hide his wand and the room had appeared to him by sheer luck – or perhaps because he had been Hogwarts Headmaster –. When he finally was in the centre of the room, Voldemort started casting numerous spells.

He had absolutely no desire to spend an eternity and half digging through the mess in the room. If, as he thought it to be, Dumbledore had hidden his wand in a hurry, he would have had no time to protect it as well as he had himself protected his Horcrux. It still took him about twenty minutes to get around Dumbledore's hasty charms, but at the end they finally gave up to his utmost satisfaction. One last time, Voldemort raised his wand.

"Accio elder wand."

There was a whistle in the air, and the next moment Lord Voldemort closed his fingers on the first Deathly Hallow.

oOoOoOo

 **AN:** Thank you for reading this chapter. See you next week :)


	22. Chapter 22

Hello everyone,

Thank you very much for the reviews! I always love reading them :)

I hope you will enjoy the next chapter.

Have a nice day,

Perhentian

oOoOoOo

 **Chapter 22 - August 1999**

Incredibly satisfied, Lord Voldemort twirled the elder wand between his fingers. He uttered a few syllables, and immediately a Fiendfyre poured out of the wand in compact waves. With a single movement of his wrist, it turned into fire snakes that populated the Room of Hidden Things' ceiling. Another tiny movement and the snakes evaporated in a cloud of harmless sparks.

Magic had always come to him easily, naturally. Few were the spells that had given him the slightest issue to master. Before going to the University, he never even had had to practice a spell twice before succeeding. But the Elder Wand was visibly powerful enough to increase even his own incredible abilities. He was now able to control a Fiendfyre as if it was a simple Incendio.

He had been afraid not to be the real master of the elder wand. Indeed, it was Bellatrix who had executed Dumbledore in the end. But the wand seemed to recognize that he was the one who had defeated the mage in a duel, even if the old fool had been fighting with another wand. It was kind of impressive to see how fickle the elder wand's loyalty was, as if the wand was craving to switch from one master to another. Fortunately for him, no one was able to disarm him in the Magical Alliance.

Euphoric, Voldemort put away the elder wand in one of the pockets of his robes and came out of the Room of Hidden Things. He contemplated for a moment to seek Severus in the Headmaster's office, to remind him that he expected nothing less than the best for the year to come. Especially since McGonagall could not help him anymore - the cat animagus might have been infuriatingly loyal to Dumbledore, but she had always fulfilled the role of Deputy Headmistress brilliantly. But Voldemort dismissed the idea. He was seeing Severus' sinister face often enough as it was…

He remembered with displeasure that he had told Lucius that he would meet him at Richard Parkinson's late summer party. If he could still tolerate Severus or Lucius presence, he had absolutely no desire to see any of his other Death Eaters, and certainly not Richard Parkinson who was an embarrassment more than anything else.

He wanted to celebrate this new victory he had just won over Dumbledore, and it would not be by listening to his Death Eaters' babbling. The majority of them were able to destroy his good mood in less than a sentence, and he had little desire to answer questions about his good mood from the few perceptive enough to detect it.

oOoOoOo

Harry gasped when the fireplace in the living room suddenly ignited and Sirius Black's head appeared in the middle of the fire. Ginny had immediately risen from her crouching position and was already pointing her wand at the hearth, a spell on the tip of her tongue.

"Hold your horses sweet Ginny, I want to keep my charming face as it is!" Sirius said.

Ginny glared at him as Harry strode to the chimney.

"What are you doing here Sirius? It's incredibly dangerous to use the Floo!"

"Bill should be able to keep the connection open for a few minutes. Are you ok? Is there anyone else or just the both of you? What is new since Minerva's owl two weeks ago?"

His tone did seem a bit hasty.

"Fred, Susan and Padma are most likely dead. Hermione's alive. All the others are fine," Harry said bluntly.

Sirius' face was suddenly more serious, and he glanced quickly at Ginny, whose expression had darkened at the mention of Fred's fate.

"Bill and I have been doing a lot of fuss in Japan lately. We hope this should give you a few days with less attention from You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters."

Crinkling sounds came from the fireplace and Sirius turned back to talk to someone, probably Bill.

"The connection is breaking, tell the others."

"We'll do it," Ginny answered simply. "Say hi to Bill."

"Be careful," Sirius said before disappearing.

Ginny and Harry exchanged a weak smile. A few days were exactly what they currently needed.

oOoOoOo

Hermione frowned, and reread the paragraph she had in front of her. Then she hastily noted her conclusions and dived into the next one eagerly. Since the previous day she had found a new strength to remain motivated. Knowing that the rebels were still fighting outside made her regret having spent several weeks doing nothing except whining over her own fate.

She was inside Slytherin Castle, the heart of the Magical Alliance, closer to Lord Voldemort than any of his other Death Eaters, and she even had a way to communicate with the rebels through the occasional reports from Severus Snape. She did not know how long this situation would last, but she had to make the most out of it.

Voldemort's conversations with his Death Eaters were quite useful, but in most cases it was information that Severus Snape probably already possessed. If she wanted to really help the rebels, she would need to be able to transmit information that nobody knew about. She needed to find a way to know when the Dark Lord was away, a way to hide her movements in the castle, and finally a subterfuge to creep into the Dark Lord's study.

And to prevent him from questioning her too much about her activities, she had decided to firstly study what he asked her to perfectly, and as quickly as possible. It was not really a chore as in any other context she would have been more than happy to read all the books he had provided.

She was hence immersed in complex arithmetic equations demonstrating the Schwarzburg theory when Adely appeared with a pop. At a glance Hermione checked the time, and noted with surprise that it was already dinner time. She turned to the house elf, thanks already on the tip of her tongue, when she realized that the house-elf was empty-handed.

"What's going on Adely?" she asked, slightly confused.

"Adely came to Miss Hermione to announce that the master expects her to be ready in about ten minutes," the house-elf said with a high-pitched voice.

"Expects me to be ready for what?"

"The master expects Miss Hermione to eat with him tonight."

"Pardon me?"

Whether it was during the past month or during her previous captivity, the Dark Lord had never required her to dine with him. It was unnerving, and Hermione felt a cold chill trail down her back. Why was the Dark Lord requesting her presence now? Was he planning to torture her in front of some guests? Why was he always so damn unpredictable?

"The master expects Miss Hermione to eat with him tonight," Adely repeated haughtily, mistaking her stupor for incomprehension.

"Thank you for telling me, Adely," Hermione said to dismiss the house-elf.

The elf scanned her from every angle and shook her head from left to right. Then without a word Adely lifted her little hands and began applying her magic to Hermione's bushy hair. Hermione did not try to stop her. She had long since learned that it was better not to fight whatever the little creatures had decided to do.

Meanwhile she finished to read the paragraph she had begun before the apparition of the house-elf, sorted her notes with shaking hands, and rearranged the books still open on the table by priority. Her thoughts were swirling in her head, searching for explanations for this unusual situation. None was a reassuring one.

She felt the Dark Lord materialize in the living room before seeing him. Adely disappeared immediately, and Hermione turned slowly toward Voldemort. She knelt, her chest tight with apprehension. She had noticed a satisfied smile on his face before kneeling, but even without it she would have known that Lord Voldemort was ecstatic. His crackling magic was a dead giveaway. And that was not good news.

"Good evening Hermione," the Dark Lord said.

Even his tone was sort of light-hearted and Hermione felt her heart miss a beat. Had he found the rebels? Had he killed Harry? Had the whole world finally fallen under his rule, or at least Japan and China, about which he regularly talked with his Death Eaters?

"Good evening, my Lord," Hermione answered in an even voice.

"Get up."

It was still an order, but it was nearly… cheerful. Hermione stood up carefully and resolutely met his red eyes. She was taken aback by the intensity of the fire inside them. He had never seemed so victorious before, and she felt her stomach clench in despair. He waved her to come closer, and when she was close enough, he held out his arm. Not like when he just needed her to touch him to side-Apparate her, no. More like a real invitation to hold his arm. She looked at him suspiciously, and his smile widened. He looked as happy as a child on Christmas morning and it was a rather disturbing analogy.

"Do not make me wait Hermione," he advised curtly, seeing that she was still not moving.

Cautiously, Hermione moved closer and grabbed his arm. His refined perfume surrounded her as he led her to the door and she focussed on her breathing not to panic. In. Out. In. Out.

"Who have you killed, my Lord?" she asked.

The Dark Lord burst out laughing and Hermione suddenly wanted so much to hit him, to hit his perfect face with her fists, just to erase his smile, and to make him feel as bad as she was herself currently feeling.

"Nobody, unfortunately," he answered in a falsely sad tone. "But it would surely be a good way to end this evening..."

Hermione refrained from replying and they walked for a few seconds in complete silence before the Dark Lord spoke again.

"Have you started to study Slytherin's theory about Herpo the Foul's works?"

Hermione gave him a dubious look at the sudden change of subject.

"I promise Hermione, my pleasant mood has nothing to do with the rebels. Now answer my question."

His tone had been colder at the end of the sentence.

"I just started it this morning, but it is quite time consuming as I am not fluent in Greek runes and it is a strong requirement to understand Herpo's assumptions."

"Indeed it is."

For a few minutes, they talked about Salazar Slytherin, Herpo the Fool and runic theories, and Hermione relaxed unconsciously. The Dark Lord vision about his ancestor's work was both original and ambitious, although the morality of some points was highly debatable.

Hermione was engaged in a critique of one of Salazar Slytherin's testing methods when the Dark Lord dragged her into a room on his left. Immediately she focussed on her surroundings again, completely alert, and she was reassured not to see any Death Eater in the cosy little lounge they had just entered. Two armchairs in front of the fireplace were surrounding a small coffee table, and the diner was set for two on a table on the other side of the room. A huge bay window allowed to see the beautiful park surrounding the castle, still bathed in the evening sun.

Voldemort invited her to sit in one of the armchairs, and Hermione sat there cautiously, still uncertain about his expectations. They had hardly sat down when a bucket of ice appeared on the coffee table, as well as two flutes. Hermione glanced at the bottle in bucket of ice, and was only half-surprised to recognize the name on the bottle for being one of the most expensive champagnes in the world.

The Dark Lord made a simple movement with his hand and their flutes were filled in even before Hermione could protest. With an elegant gesture, Voldemort handed her one of the glasses.

"I would rather not drink, my Lord," Hermione said carefully.

It did not seem like a good idea to drink alcohol in the company of the Dark Lord.

"Drink," Voldemort ordered in a cold voice.

Hermione tensed. Despite the benign appearance of the conversation, the Dark Lord seemed to suffer as little contradiction as usual. She took the flute in her hands while mentally cursing Voldemort's bipolarity.

"To this beautiful day," the Dark Lord said in a once again cheerful tone.

Voldemort watched as Hermione cautiously clinked glasses and he smirked. He knew she was speculating about why he was in such good mood, and he wondered how she would react if she knew he had just gotten hold of the most powerful wand in the magical world. Hmm, she would probably not be too eager to share his joy, and that simple thought made his mood even better.

He took a mouthful of champagne. Hermione pretended to follow suit and he looked at her with amusement as she was fidgeting on the chair. Her discomfort was quite noticeable. At least with her he could safely display his good spirits. It was not like she could talk to anyone about it...

"Drink Hermione. It would be a shame to spoil such great champagne… Neither your parents nor the rebels would have been able to offer you anything like this."

Hermione stiffened and glared at him, without answering. He took a sip himself before resuming in a playful tone.

"I guess Weasley and Potter do not even know the difference between champagne and white wine."

"At least they know the difference between a human being and a tool," Hermione retorted.

Voldemort laughed again. She definitely was a funny thing.

"Have you ever travelled abroad Hermione?" he asked.

Once again surprised by the abrupt subject change Hermione took a few seconds to collect her thoughts.

"I spent several summers in the south of France my Lord," she answered finally.

"Would you like to visit other magical communities?"

"Yes, I would like that very much," Hermione replied.

In her heart she thought that traveling outside the walls of this castle would already be a very pleasant experience.

"Where would you go first?" the Dark Lord continued.

"Well, unlike Europe, focused on spells, Central Asia relies mostly on runes and East Asia specializes in magical artefacts, so I'll say probably Japan or Uzbekistan. But Singapore and Chile should also be very interesting, my Lord."

"Chile is not worth it."

"Really?"

"Chilean wizards boast a lot but they have not achieved anything worth mentioning it," the Dark Lord answered condescendingly. "And you should at least add China, Burma, Ethiopia and Russia to your list."

"There is a magical community in Burma?" Hermione wondered.

She had never heard of it.

"Only several monks in few monasteries. But they have a very interesting vision of magic. They only use local runes, most of them thousands of years old."

"What are the main differences with the runes used in Europe?"

The Dark Lord began to explain the subtleties of Burmese runes, and soon they drifted to a debate about the pros and cons of both methods. Somewhere in the middle of the debate they had moved to the table and had started to eat, and the Dark Lord had made her drink more wine than what was prudent with the present company.

They had already discussed several other theories when Voldemort made a remark that bristled Hermione.

"You can't simply state that Morgana le Fay's theory is correct!" she blurted. "It has never been proven!"

"Do not be stupid Hermione, it is quite evident that Morgana is right," he said contemptuously.

Fortunately, he did not seem to care about her outburst, and anyway Hermione was too involved in the discussion to hold back.

"But if it's correct, then Zoltan's equations cannot work. And they work perfectly well!"

"Zoltan's equations have no connection with Morgana."

"Of course they have a connection. Zoltan's third hypothesis derives from Mohr's runes, which derive from Morgana's theory."

Voldemort froze for a moment, and Hermione could not hold a victorious smile.

"Aha!" she said triumphantly.

But the Dark Lord ignored her and made an old grimoire appear right before him. Hermione barely had time to see the cover - it was a book on Mohr's runes - before the Dark Lord was diving into it. A few moments later, he raised his head with a smug smile.

Hermione was prepared to argue, but the appearance of the dreaded white wand in the Dark Lord's right hand showered her enthusiasm and she suddenly remembered who she was arguing with. She tensed with apprehension, but the Dark Lord merely made her own wine wand appear just in front of her.

"Please, Hermione, you know how to throw an anti-Apparition ward, don't you?"

Hermione grabbed her wand in her hands, and immediately she itched to try something to escape, but the Dark Lord's wand was pointed straight at her, and she just did what he had asked. A moment later, her wand was again in the Dark Lord's hands. He put the two wands away and fluidly stood up.

And then, he Apparated through her ward without disturbing it in the least. Hermione gaped at the result, until he Apparated back without a sound, and finally made her barrier disappear with another spell.

"But… but it's impossible!" Hermione said.

Voldemort looked at her mockingly.

"Morgana le Fay's theory cannot be true," she said stubbornly. "It's impossible to change the magical polarity of anything, let alone the magical polarity of one's magical aura!"

"Of course it is possible. And for your information, Mohr's runes work even when taking into account Morgana's theory; it is a mistake to think that they derive from the stability of the magical polarity."

"Mohr's runes don't derive from magical polarity stability? But..."

"Come here."

Still doubtful, Hermione stood up and moved closer to the Dark Lord. He pointed to her a paragraph of the book he had consulted earlier. She leaned over to read, their shoulders almost touching each other, and she waited impatiently for him to explain how he could have come to his conclusions based on this information only.

oOoOoOo

Exhausted, Hermione was staring absently at Slytherin Castle's park, now lit by the moonlight. It had been half an hour since they had finished discussing the theory behind Mohr's runes, and they were back in the armchairs near the fireplace. The Dark Lord had poured her a glass of cognac but she had refused to touch it, and for once he had not insisted.

The silence between them was strangely comfortable, and Hermione let her mind wander on all the new magical possibilities she had discovered tonight. She jumped when the Dark Lord finally got up, and realized that she must have been half asleep, less than a yard away from Lord Voldemort.

She got up as he approached her, and again he offered her his arm gallantly. They walked silently down the hallways, and Hermione found herself regretting that the evening was over. There had been some strange truce between them tonight, and she was pretty sure it only meant the situation would worsen tomorrow. They passed right by the Dark Lord's study, and Hermione was surprised to see Lucius Malfoy waiting in front of the doors, his aristocratic face slightly annoyed.

"My Lord," he bowed, seeing them arrive.

"Lucius," the Dark Lord replied. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

The Dark Lord's tone was lightly ironic, and Hermione realized that he should have known perfectly well that Lucius Malfoy was waiting for him in front of his study. She did not hold back her smile at this thought.

"I had the impression that you would be coming to the Parkinsons' party my Lord," Lucius Malfoy said finally.

"You obviously had the wrong impression Lucius, I have spent the evening in far better company," Voldemort replied with cruel indifference.

Lucius Malfoy gave Hermione a quick, calculating glance, and Hermione's smile widened, amused to see him in trouble.

"I wished to talk to you about Japan, my Lord."

"Japan? What is the issue with Japan Lucius?" Voldemort asked curtly.

"Your contact there has been imprisoned for corruption today, and the negotiations are therefore at a standstill."

Voldemort's magic flared with suppressed anger and Hermione saw Lucius Malfoy's impassive mask crack slightly.

"Hermione," Voldemort said slowly. "You'll find your way back on your own, won't you?"

"Of course, my Lord."

She bowed slightly and moved away from the two men, wishing to put as much distance as possible between Voldemort and herself before the Dark Lord started to be too irritated by Lucius Malfoy's bad news. She quickly made her way back to her room, and hesitated for a moment. Since the day she had managed to master wandless magic, the door of her suite had let her in, but had not let her out anymore, the Dark Lord having casted on it locking spells much more complex than a mere Colloportus.

Would she have the time to try to find where Fred, Susan and Padma were? Or perhaps even enough time to help them escape? But she was not sure she could manage to free them with her piddling knowledge of wandless magic… And getting out of the castle without being stopped would probably be impossible. But on the other hand she did not know if she would have another chance to try it.

She was still in the hallway, hesitating about the best course of action when she felt the Dark Lord's magic. She turned to face him when he appeared, trying to look innocent. The good mood he had been in this evening seemed to have disappeared and Hermione could not help but display her satisfaction. His bad news was her good news.

"Do you have any issue opening this simple door Hermione?" Voldemort asked coldly.

"No, my Lord," Hermione answered, quickly lowering her eyes, essentially trying to hide her satisfaction.

She had not thought he would have finished so quickly with Lucius Malfoy. Thanks Merlin she had not tried anything stupid too quickly. She really did not need to see the Dark Lord killing one of her friends. She felt his hand on her chin and he forcefully raised her head. She met his carmine gaze and stared at him unblinkingly.

"Do not try to bypass my rules Hermione," the Dark Lord said in a frighteningly soft voice. "You will not be the only one to regret it."

He took a step back, staring intently at her, and Hermione hastily disappeared into her room.

oOoOoOo

The next day the situation was back to normal, and the Dark Lord's mood was stormy, as if the calm evening of the previous day had never existed. Lord Voldemort and Hermione had been quietly working for two hours in the Dark Lord's study when the snake guarding the door moved.

Voldemort answered with a short hiss and the door opened, letting in two Death Eaters escorting a man shaking from head to toe. Hermione did not miss the disdainful expression that passed over the Dark Lord's face as the man knelt shakily.

"Crabbe, Goyle, get out," Voldemort ordered.

So those were Vincent and Gregory's fathers? Hermione looked at them curiously and indeed found some resemblance. The two Death Eaters bowed slavishly and got out, leaving the trembling man to face the Dark Lord alone.

"What have you found?" Voldemort asked drily.

Hermione pretended to be interested in her book while listening attentively.

"My... my Lord," the man began. "I... I found a... a book mentioning this… this Seth's amulet you told me about..."

Seth's amulet? What was that? Hermione wondered. She knew the Dark Lord spent all his free time looking for ancient books or legendary magical artefacts that most would have thought to only be that, legendary, but she had never heard of Seth's amulet before.

She looked out of the corner of her eye at the shaking man in front of the Dark Lord and felt sorry for him. She could already sense Voldemort's exasperation rising.

"Which book?" the Dark Lord asked coldly.

Hermione's hands clutched the book in her hands. The Cruciatus curse would probably be cast soon and she did not want this poor man to be tortured. He had probably done nothing to deserve it.

"A... a register from... from Borgin and Burkes. It was fill… filled in by some… obscure clerk, my Lord," the man managed to say.

"His name?"

"T… Tom Riddle, my Lord."

Hermione sharply raised her head and looked at the man with horror. He obviously had no idea who Tom Riddle really was. It did not bode well for him, not at all.

"Some obscure clerk?" Voldemort repeated in an icy voice.

"Uh... yes... uh," the man stammered, having obviously detected the threat in the Dark Lord's tone. "A... a Mudblood."

The room's temperature dropped drastically, and Hermione felt the atmosphere become more and more oppressive due to the Dark Lord's magic. Instinctively the man took a few steps back. Voldemort stood up slowly and got around his desk as the man recoiled with shrieks and terrified supplications. Discreetly, Hermione began to focus on her magic.

"Curcio," the Dark Lord casted after few awfully tensed seconds.

He kept his spell several seconds, and Hermione forced herself to stay focused. The Cruciatus Curse was not the main threat here anymore.

"I happen to already know what is written in this registry," Voldemort said slowly.

Hermione struggled not to snort derisively. Of course he already knew what was written in the register, he had written it himself, probably many years ago, but still.

"My lord, I am sorry, please, I'll do better," the man pleaded, grovelling at the Dark Lord's feet.

"You are not a very useful bookseller it seems..."

The Dark Lord raised his wand again, and Hermione concentrated on the poor, terrified man in front of him.

"Avada Kedavra."

"Expulso!"

Hermione's wandless spell hit the man just in time, and the Dark Lord's Avada Kedavra crashed onto the wall. A dead silence fell on the room as Voldemort turned to Hermione. She recoiled from his deadly gaze and instinctively her eyes searched for a way out, to no avail.

"Care to explain to me what you were trying to do Hermione?" the Dark Lord asked in a threatening voice.

"You can't just kill him because you don't like what he is telling you!" Hermione said in a burst of courage.

In a split second, the Dark Lord had casted another Avada Kedavra.

"No!" Hermione said, throwing herself forward.

But the lifeless body of the bookseller was already collapsing on the floor and Hermione stopped suddenly, unable to detach her eyes from the corpse a few meters from her. She could not believe that a man's life had just ended so abruptly right in front of her.

"Oops," the Dark Lord said with a lightness that shocked Hermione. "Seems to me I can."

He had an ironic smile on his lips and Hermione stared at him without finding anything to answer to such indifference. The Dark Lord approached her, looked at her stilled form, and seemed annoyed by her lack of reaction.

"Forget him, Hermione. Idiots like him do not deserve to live."

With these words he turned away, as if the incident was closed, and returned to sit at his desk.

oOoOoOo

 **AN:** Thank you for reading this chapter. See you next week :)


	23. Chapter 23

Hello everyone,

Thank you very much for your kind support :)

I hope you will enjoy the next chapter.

Have a nice day,

Perhentian

oOoOoOo

 **Chapter 23 - August 1999**

Voldemort glared at Hermione. The girl was sitting on the sofa near the fireplace, studying in the utmost silence. She had not spontaneously spoken to him for two days, since he had killed the idiotic bookseller in fact. He had even purposely slipped a far too complex book into her hands this morning, but she was still stubbornly ignoring him.

He loathed her when she dared to interrupt his work with her incessant questions. But the mere idea of her ignoring him irritated him even more. Was she so much of a fool? He had not managed to become such a powerful ruler by pitying incompetent wizards. He had even been merciful enough to allow the bookseller to live for so long despite his uselessness.

He saw Hermione frown and his hand itched to cast a particularly unpleasant spell on her. He was absolutely certain that she was unable to understand half of what she was currently reading. After all, the book was written half in Latin, half in Aramaic, and if he may admit that it was possible she had learned Latin among other things, there was absolutely no chance that she could read Aramaic. And he knew she was unable to cast a translation spell without a wand.

If a Crucio would definitely not put Hermione in better mood, at least it would relax him. A moment after his wand was in his hand, and he was already pointing it at Hermione when he suddenly knew what would undoubtedly force the Mudblood out of her muteness.

"Hermione," he called dryly.

Hermione quickly turned to the Dark Lord. She had felt his eyes on her for several minutes, and she was not surprised to notice that he was irritated, his wand twirling between his fingers.

"Yes, my Lord?" she asked in her most neutral voice.

She knew that her behaviour had displeased the Dark Lord the last two days, but she did not care. His displeasure was even an added bonus. If he found it funny to give her books that she could hardly read, all the better for her. Instead of reading it, she was trying to analyse in her head Morgana le Fay's theory. If the Dark Lord was able to pass through her spells without even disturbing them, she had to be able to do the same thing. But the complexity of Morgana's theory was such that all wizards thought it to be incorrect… It was magic well above her level and she was perfectly aware of it.

"Come here," Voldemort ordered.

Hermione refrained from snapping at him that she was not his pet for him to order around. After the murder she had witnessed, she had little doubt that Voldemort would kill Fred, Susan and Padma at some point anyway, but that was not a reason to annoy him more than what was healthy. She put the incomprehensible book on the table in front of her and walked quickly towards him. Would it be the Cruciatus? Or would the Dark Lord be more creative, as he sometimes could be when he really wanted to make his discontent known? Or perhaps he had finally decided to kill her?

Hermione forced herself to keep an impassive face, reflecting the Dark Lord's blank expression. However, the tension between them was crystal clear, their magic violently clashing around them. But instead of raising his wand at her as she was expecting him to, Voldemort simply motioned for her to follow him.

He went to the back of his study, where he had conducted several months ago his experiments to try to break down the magical shield protecting her. Did he want to prevent her blood from staining his precious carpet when he would be torturing her? He stopped right next to the wall and waited for her to join him, before hissing a few words in Parseltongue. Immediately an arch appeared in the wall.

The interior of the arch was dark, and it was impossible to distinguish what was on the other side - if there really was another side -.

"Ladies first," the Dark Lord said ironically, motioning for her to go forward.

Hermione felt her shoulders twitch, but she did not show her apprehension in any other way before stepping with false confidence into the passage. She stopped shortly after emerging from the arch. In front of her was a huge library, filled with various books from floor to ceiling. It smelled both of old books and of fresh parchment, and Hermione found herself consciously sniffing this pleasant odour.

When the Dark Lord appeared right next to her, she hastily concealed her amazement, but his mocking look proved her that she had not been fast enough.

"You are far too interested in books Hermione," he commented.

"I'm not the one who collected all those," Hermione answered with a smile.

Then she remembered that she had decided not to speak to the Dark Lord if she was not forced to, and she scowled. He smirked at her again, as if he knew exactly what she had thought, and it irritated her even more. Then he started to stroll down the aisles and she followed him, watching the books around her.

The library was very vast and Hermione could not help but be in awe in front of all the knowledge stored there. She had already found the multiple shelves in the Dark Lord's study impressive enough, but what she had in front of her eyes now was truly impressive.

Unable to resist the appeal, she turned into an alley on her left and tried to decipher the labels on a series of papyrus scrolls. Unfortunately the labels themselves were written in ancient Greek, and if she knew few things in Latin, she had never learned ancient Greek.

"Those are the original hieroglyphic version of Ptolemy's methodology."

"The book you lent me is a transcription?"

"Yes, the only existing one. It was done by Helga Hufflepuff, and afterwards carefully preserved by its descendants."

Hermione reached out and cautiously touched the papyrus scrolls. Two millennia old scrolls, in perfect condition, as if they had been written the day before. She did not ask how the Dark Lord had gotten hold of these documents, she was almost certain to know the answer already.

A hissing sound was heard, first softly, then louder and louder, and the next moment Nagini emerged from behind a shelf. Hermione ignored Voldemort's snake - Horcrux! - and looked back at all the other papyrus scrolls that piled up in this part of the library.

"You will not be able to read them until you have mastered the most complex translation spells perfectly," Voldemort said, and for once his voice bore no trace of contempt. "Most are protected by heavy enchantments that make their translation rather difficult."

"Yeah… I would have bet on it…" Hermione answered thoughtfully, her eyes still lost on the shelves in front of her.

"Do not stay too long. The exit at the end of these aisles lead to the same corridor as my study."

With these words the Dark Lord turned on his heels and disappeared, leaving Hermione with the books. And Nagini. Completely fascinated, Hermione wandered through the library, occasionally glaring at the snake on her heels. There was no way she could throw a Fiendfyre on Nagini without her wand. And even if she could, it was out of the question to do that in this library.

When she had walked around the library twice, she decided with a saddened sigh that it was time for her to return to the Dark Lord's study if she did not want him to be upset, again.

oOoOoOo

Draco Malfoy was particularly pleased with himself this afternoon. The Dark Lord had summoned him towards the end of the day to give him an importance mission. He was going to join his father, already in Japan for two days, to seduce the Japanese heiress, and thus to throw the shame on this family who was fiercely opposed to the Dark Lord.

He was more than proud that the Dark Lord had requested him for this. It proved to him once again that the Malfoy family was far superior to all the others. He was already picturing himself telling all his friends and acquaintances that he had personally spoken with the Dark Lord, and that he had done with brio everything he had asked of him.

He had just come out of the Dark Lord's study when a girl appeared on the other end of the hallway. She was about his age, finely and richly dressed, like all the other pure-blooded women he interacted with every day. But he was absolutely certain that he had never met her before, and he knew all the important families in Europe - most of them were actively seeking to establish a wedding arrangement between him and one of their daughters if said daughters were about the right age.

She was walking with confidence towards him, probably to see the Dark Lord, and Draco revelled in his superior knowledge of the Dark Lord's affairs, and the disappointment he was probably going to cause.

"I apologise Miss, but the Dark Lord does not wish to be disturbed anymore," he said with a trailing voice.

The girl turned to him with a surprised look and he smiled smugly. He wondered from which part of the Magical Alliance she was coming from. And how long would she stay in England - she was quite pretty after all, and he had no engagement until his father approved any betrothing contract.

"The Dark Lord is waiting for me," she answered calmly.

She spoke English perfectly, without any accent, and it disturbed Draco slightly.

"It may have been the case, but he has just let me know that he no longer wanted to be disturbed."

Hermione looked with concealed exasperation at Draco Malfoy - it could only be him -. The young blond man was the carbon copy of his father, even his mannerisms were the same. And the arrogant look on his face was identical to Lucius's, except that his was more spoiled arrogance than political haughtiness.

"I beg your pardon, but I can assure you that the Dark Lord is waiting for me," she replied with a touch of irony.

She took a step forward but he caught her arm to stop her. She looked disdainfully at the hand on her arm and then at Draco Malfoy. He was one of those wannabe Death Eaters that had bullied Harry, Ron, Ginny and many others, and she only needed a good pretext to punch him in the face. Oh, she could already imagine how satisfactory the sound of his breaking nose would be!

"You seem new here," Draco Malfoy said, without taking his eyes off her. "Come with me, I should be able to find a few minutes of my time to inform you of Slytherin Castle's habits and customs, and teach you all the missteps to avoid."

Hermione cut back a snide remark and sharply pulled her arm away from Draco Malfoy's grip.

"Thank you, but it will not be necessary," she replied in her coldest tone.

Draco Malfoy looked at her suspiciously, but she held his gaze confidently.

"I cannot let you go," he said.

"He's waiting for me," she replied.

"He does not wish to be disturbed."

"That does not apply to me."

"And why's that? Oh, wait; are you here to spend the night with the Dark Lord?"

That was clearly outrageous, and Hermione would have answered viciously if Voldemort had not chosen that exact moment to get out of his study, a bored look on his face.

"My Lord," Hermione greeted immediately with a quick nod.

Draco Malfoy turned around and bowed deeply to the Dark Lord.

"Is the task I have just given you so unimportant that you feel free to still wander idly in my caste?" Voldemort asked coldly.

"No, my Lord, of c..."

"Then why are you still here Draco?"

The blond man shivered slightly and hurriedly departed. Hermione could not help but look at the Dark Lord with irritation as she walked past him into his study.

"Bellatrix and now Draco, you always have a marvellous timing, Hermione," the Dark Lord said.

Hermione just glared at him.

"Draco seems to have put you in a wonderful mood," he commented sarcastically.

"Indeed," Hermione snapped.

Who did he think he was, this meek pureblood who believed himself superior because he had always lived in a luxurious manor and had a successful papa who grovelled at the Dark Lord's feet?

"Hermione."

The voice was cold, dangerous, and Hermione turned back to the Dark Lord. His carefully blank expression suddenly reminded her of who he really was and she tried to regain some control over her anger.

"I beg your pardon my Lord. Draco Malfoy was insisting that you did not wish to be disturbed, going as far as blocking my path, and that annoyed me."

The Dark Lord's face became colder and he approached her, the shadow of a cruel smile playing on his lips.

"So you want me to believe that you are upset because Draco blocked your path? It is not really true, is it Hermione? You are offended by his insinuations."

Hermione flinched visibly and Voldemort smirked. She was so easy to read.

"And why are you so affected Hermione? If you would have been afraid that his insinuations may come true you should have felt fear, not anger. So does it mean that you regret that his insinuations may not come true?" he asked as he approached even closer.

"What? You're out of your mind!" she replied with clear outrage.

She had absolutely no desire to sleep with the Dark Lord. It was disgusting. And it was even worse when he was insinuating it himself.

She tried to take a step back, but immediately one of the Dark Lord's hands was on her back and he held her firmly. She became suddenly acutely aware of the Dark Lord's magic surrounding her completely, as well as of the man's icy perfume, and her brain was overwhelmed by panic. She knew she needed to get away as quickly as possible, get out of his grip, get out of this situation, but she was unable to move, her eyes fixed on Voldemort's red gaze.

In a burst of clarity, she tried to turn her head away, but the Dark Lord's free hand grabbed her face and painfully forced her to look at him again. His hand was cold, and his fingers on her skin made her shudder with fear. She opened her mouth to protest, but the Dark Lord's lips crashed on hers, and her mind seemed to shut down completely.

There was nothing she was aware of anymore except the sensation of his lips on hers, the sudden heat inside her, the coolness of his hands. He kissed her possessively and she melted into his kiss, enjoying its electrifying taste. Enjoying the overwhelming sensation of bliss. Enjoying the closeness she shared with Voldemort…

"No!"

Hermione abruptly pulled away, pushing the Dark Lord from her with both hands. Her heart was beating erratically in her chest, and when she met the Dark Lord's mocking gaze she panicked completely. Having no idea what to do with herself, she fled.

oOoOoOo

As soon as Hermione was out of his study Voldemort let out a chilling laugh. The frantic look that had appeared on her face had been simply wonderful. She would never be able to explain her own reaction, and the thought that she had willingly let him kiss her would surely haunt her for a long time.

She had obviously not been able to detect his Misguidance spell. More subtle than the Imperium curse, more discreet than a banal Confundo, less intrusive than legilimency, the Misguidance curse was a dark spell that could not be maintained for a long time. But it allowed to exacerbate specific thoughts of its victim without being noticed. Voldemort had invented it in his youth, to convince his interlocutors that they deeply wanted to share some of their secrets with him.

And it had worked perfectly well to persuade Hermione that she was not really against kissing him. It only took her a few seconds to get rid of his spell, but these few seconds have been plenty sufficient to leave her confused about her own actions.

Voldemort felt like he could still taste the softness of her lips on his owns, and he smiled with satisfaction. He had not planned this, but it had been a pleasant way to mock the Mudblood. And now that his Death Eaters new exactly what should be done in Japan, he will be able to focus his own attention on Seth's amulet.

With a quick wand movement Voldemort sent a message to Bellatrix, Severus and Tyler stating that he would probably be away for one or two days.

oOoOoOo

Hermione had stormed out of the Dark Lord's study, and she had rushed to her room, hurrying in as if the room could protect her from the Dark Lord. As if the room could protect her from herself.

"I've lost my mind… I've finally lost my mind…" she murmured, collapsing into one of the armchairs.

Immediately the recent events flashed in her head. The Dark Lord leaning towards her. The possessiveness of his kiss. Her own lack of resistance. The intense feeling of satisfaction she had felt.

"It's impossible…" she faltered.

She was ashamed of herself. She could not have willingly let herself be kissed by the Dark Lord. She hated him! She wanted him dead! He must have done something to her, discreetly throwing her an Imperium, or a Confundus spell. But she knew very well that both spells left traces, and she cannot feel any side effect.

She tried to replay the scene in her head, searching for an explanation, any explanation. But there was no clue about why she did not run away sooner. Except for her own inexplicable urge to continue kissing him.

She put her head in her hands and she felt like she would burst into tears if she cannot erase what had just happened from her memories. But there was nothing she could do. And she cannot even do something drastic to distract herself. Killing Nagini was out of her league. Mastering Morgana le Fay's theory was out of her league. Confronting the Dark Lord was out of her league.

While Harry and Ron had to be looking for the Horcruxes, she was doing nothing but betraying them, and she was feeling particularly miserable.

oOoOoOo

Pocking sounds were heard, and all the rebels in the room turned their heads towards the window. Recognizing the owl, Minerva McGonagall stood up to recover the missive. She read it quickly, before burning it with a quick gesture of her wand.

Arthur and Molly Weasley were there, chatting calmly with each other. Kingsley Shacklebolt, Nymphadora Tonks, Remus Lupin and George Weasley were working on some infiltration plans. Harry and Ron were playing chess, Ginny and Neville watching them. This small house was the new headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. All the Weasley lived there – except Percy, who had not talked with any member of his family for many years and was still working for the ministry –, as well as Harry and Neville.

If Remus, Tonks, Kingsley and McGonagall did not sleep there, they were, however, often visiting, like this evening, most of the main decisions being discussed in this small living room.

"Minerva?" Remus enquired.

Minerva smiled slightly and all relaxed. Good news was scarce these days.

"Sirius and William have done a good job," the former deputy headmistress of Hogwarts said. "Several Death Eaters are in Japan and the Dark Lord has just left England for one or two days."

Harry, Remus and McGonagall exchanged a meaningful look. There would probably never be a better moment to try to infiltrate Borgin and Burkes. There were several excited comments from the rebels, and McGonagall waited for all to calm down slightly before speaking again.

"We must use this opportunity to perform a specific mission. Harry and Remus will be in charge, but they would need some support. Two other people would be perfect."

Ron opened his mouth but Harry immediately kicked him under the table. His friend glared at him, but Harry held his gaze. It was not the first time something like this happened. As Ron was aware of the Horcruxes' existence, and was not a master Occlumens, it was far too risky for him to leave the rebels' safe houses. Ron knew that it was safer this way, but he hated it.

A heated debate ensued between the various people present, before McGonagall took a decision once and for all, despite Harry's angry glare. He had no problem with George. But he could not fully trust Blaise Zabini, whatever good reasons the others may have. But unfortunately he was not the one to take decisions on the behalf of the whole Order and all the others were aligned…

Remus, George and Harry quickly collected Blaise in another safe house, and afterwards they Apparated directly in Knockturn Alley, each of them having already visited the shadowy street – it had been one of the criteria to participate –.

"The shop is on the left," Harry reminded his companions quietly.

The alley was empty but they still had to be careful. They moved fluidly with the help of the moonlight, regularly casting detection spells, and they quickly reached Borgin and Burkes. Everything was dark inside, and the shop seemed empty.

"Let's start George," Remus said.

The Weasley twins had spent all their time in Hogwarts to infiltrate inaccessible rooms – they had even entered Snape's personal quarters one day – and their expertise in terms of robbery was well established. And Remus would be perfectly able to assist George this time: he was one of the Marauders after all.

"It's open," George finally said after several long minutes.

Silently, they entered the shop. Harry looked with mild disgust at the odd objects on the shelves.

"The registers are usually behind the counter," Blaise Zabini drawled.

He was the only one to have already bought something from here. They slipped behind the counter, and Remus and George started to bring down the various wards, while Harry and Blaise scrutinized the surroundings. Finally Remus indicated that everything was now accessible, and the four wizards began to search the various drawers.

"Which years are we looking at?" Blaise asked.

"From 1900 to the present day," Remus replied.

"Seriously?" Blaise deadpanned.

Harry glared at him. They could have reduced a lot more the time span, but they did not want to leave any suspicion that they were tracking the Dark Lord's past in case their break-in was known. Blaise grumbled again, but conscientiously started copying the registers. It was for his charms expertise that he had been added to the group, and despite his mistrust of the young man Harry could only admit that he actually seemed to master the subject very well.

It took several hours to copy the documents, remaining constantly alert, but the sun was still far from rising when they finally finished the copies and replaced the documents in their original drawers. They reactivated the wards, and returned to the rebellion headquarters without the slightest problem. And they had a lot of documents now to continue searching for the Dark Lord's Horcruxes.

The month of August was ending better than it had begun.

oOoOoOo

On the morning of Tuesday the 31st of August Lord Voldemort was in St. Petersburg, few meters away from the entry of the University. During the night he first went to China, visiting all the old houses of Zhao Ming and Maria d'Aguilar. Most of them were now abandoned or inhabited by new families, and none contained anything linked to Seth's amulet.

Hence, he no longer had the choice and needed to infiltrate the University. And if the Russian city of St. Petersburg had been under his control for nine months now, the University itself had retained its independence, and would continue to as long as he would not be able to get rid of all the magi. It was one of the most warded magical places in the world, and Voldemort had even taken the elder wand with him.

Early this morning he had spent an hour to cast the old fool's ward, the one that had protected Hermione during several years. He had greatly improved it, and if he had not been able to reduce the time needed to cast it, at least he was now able to use magic without disrupting the shield. However, it would require a lot of concentration for each spell not to interfere with the ward, and he knew that it would considerably slow down his progress. But he could not do without this ward. Maria was living between these walls, and there may even be other magi visiting her, and no other way to conceal his magic would fool them.

Casting a powerful disillusionment charm, Voldemort finally moved from his current hiding place in the shadow of several buildings. It would be the first time he would broke into the University, and he felt a strong sense of exaltation. If his infiltration was successful, it would mean that no place on earth was above his magical prowess.

Taking his time, Voldemort slowly infiltrated the University, passing one by one the various wards undetected. Once inside the Russian palace, he walked without hesitation towards the teachers' quarters. Each room and each hallway reminded him of his own time here. If the connection he had with the University was not as strong as the one he had with Hogwarts, he had spent some very instructive years here.

He had no longer been a poor penniless orphan when he had first entered the University, but a brilliant wizard, an extraordinary one even. Even Dumbledore's efforts had not stopped him from being accepted in the University, and later on from becoming a mage. He had finished his studies as he had started them, getting the best scores in decades. Even better than Dumbledore's and Maria's.

An indistinct chatter was heard and Voldemort concentrated to decipher it.

"Have you decided where would be held the next equinox Maria?"

It was a voice that Voldemort had absolutely no desire to hear. Of all the magi, Antonio Ibanez del Campo was really the one he despised the most. He did not even know how he had managed to get the title. He had absolutely no ambition except for living his despicable family life in Chile.

"Not yet. Akinito has proposed to invite us to Kyoto, Sikh to Jaipur and Shane to Salt Lake City."

Maria's voice was calm and settled, and Voldemort hid in the shadows of a nearby corridor. He would soon know if his improvements of Dumbledore's ward would keep Maria's talents at bay.

"Kyoto is risky, isn't it? If _he_ overthrows Japan by then..."

"Even if he does, Marvolo will not try anything against the magi."

At the University Voldemort had introduced himself under the name of Marvolo Gaunt, not yet ready to reveal his Lord Voldemort persona to the world, but nevertheless refusing to use his birth name. And the few wizards who still dared to talk openly about him now used that name. The only exception had been Dumbledore, always keen to remind him of his unfortunate heritage and his despicable Muggle father.

"I am not so sure about that," Antonio replied. "He will eventually end up trying to kill us all."

Maria and Antonio had just appeared at the end of the main hallway, and Antonio's face reflected his discomfort. At least this mediocre wizard had some sense of preservation…

"I look forward to see him try anything," Maria answered with a fierce smile.

They passed right in front of him, but neither of them noticed him, and Voldemort looked at them with a cruel satisfaction. For a moment he hesitated to send then a powerful curse.

"Because you could then overpass the non-killing rule and defeat him in a duel?" Antonio laughed.

Now he was even considering sending him an Avada Kedavra.

"Defeat him in a duel?" Maria repeated slowly. "No Antonio, I do not think I can defeat Marvolo in a duel, not anymore anyway. But I will not be the only one to stand against him if he makes this mistake. But Marvolo is not a fool. "

Antonio's answer was lost in the distance and Voldemort continued on his way. He indeed was not a fool. He would never give an opportunity to the magi to ally against him. If Antonio's attitude had irritated him, he was, however, delighted to have met Maria in this hallway. He was now certain to have at least ten minutes to slip into her quarters without being disturbed.

It finally took him more than half an hour to get around all the wards the university dean had set up to protect her quarters, and he was almost thankful to Antonio to still distract Maria somehow. At last, he slipped into the witch's quarters.

He spent the whole afternoon there. Maria came by twice, and each time he had needed to stay perfectly still and concentrated on his magic not to be detected. A tiny movement had had suddenly attracted the witch attention towards him, wand ready in her hand, but Maria had finally relaxed and went back to her own business. The soon starting term fortunately kept her quite occupied.

It was only towards the end of the evening that he finally found an interesting document, and immediately his anger flared. Voldemort looked at the letter in front of him and his fingers tightened around his wand. He would need to have a serious discussion with a certain Ethiopian mage who had obviously dared to fool him during the last spring equinox.

oOoOoOo

 **AN:** So, your reactions? :)


	24. Chapter 24

Hello everyone,

Thank you very much for the reviews.

I hope you will enjoy this new chapter.

Have a nice day,

Perhentian

oOoOoOo

 **Chapter 24 - September 1999**

After running away from the Dark Lord's study, Hermione had spent the evening in a daze. All night long, she had just looked absently at the ceiling of her room, not being able to sleep, and in the early morning she still had not managed to recover from her shock. During all the following day, she had been especially anxious to see the Dark Lord again, but he had fortunately not deigned to grace her with his presence.

Her lack of sleep, and the stressful day had irremediably darkened Hermione's mood, and when it had once more been the time for her to go to sleep, she had unilaterally decided that this whole story was somehow the Dark Lord's fault, even though she had no tangible proof of it. Anyway, if she managed to kill him soon enough, no one would know about this event except herself, and that would be perfect.

On the morning of September 1st, Hermione was more rested but not really in a better mood. She was tired of this situation. Tired of not knowing what the Dark Lord wanted from her. Tired of being a mere pawn on a chessboard. Tired of having no control over her own life. So, instead of settling in front of a book, Hermione spent her morning trying to cast the most vicious curses she knew wandlessly. The fact that she did not manage anything more damaging than an Expulso did nothing to improve her mood.

When the Dark Lord appeared in her room early in the afternoon, she immediately felt that his mood mirrored hers and for the first time in two days she smiled. There was nothing more satisfying than to know that whatever it was the Dark Lord was scheming it was not going well.

"If the room is not to your liking I can send you back to your cell you know," the Dark Lord commented drily.

The coldness of his tone immediately lowered her satisfaction, and Hermione uncomfortably glanced at the room. Most of the chairs lain broken, having been smashed against the walls, and the coffee table was in no better condition. It was nothing a simple mending charm could not fix, but the Dark Lord obviously did not like the idea of her redecorating, if his wand nonchalantly aimed at her was any indication.

"Please forgive me, my Lord," she said, looking straight into his eyes.

She knew she had everything to lose if he finally got tired of her, and she still cared about her life and most importantly about her friends' lives. Unconsciously, her gaze drifted on the Dark Lord's lips and she felt her face blush as her body stilled. Why on earth had she not been able to stop her stupid curiosity from doing that? She knelt quickly – remembering she had still to do it –, refusing to meet the Dark Lord gaze again.

"Get up," he ordered.

A hint of amusement was discernible in his cold tone, and Hermione felt her cheeks shamefully burn again. She was furious when she got up, and she had to hold back tears of humiliation from beading in the corner of her eyes. She could not even tell if she was more furious with him or with herself.

The Dark Lord deliberately let a few seconds pass in a particularly uncomfortable silence, before disdainfully beckoning her to come closer.

"Come here Hermione," he said. "I will need you today."

Immediately the conflicting feelings battling inside Hermione's head turned into suspicion and it was with apprehension that she moved closer to him.

"If your behaviour pleases me I may even grant you the pleasure of kissing you again," the Dark Lord said sarcastically.

Merlin forbids, Hermione thought, and if she restrained herself from blurting some scathing reply, she could see in the mocking gaze of the Dark Lord that he had read her thoughts perfectly. He did not bother to comment, just grabbing her arm and Apparating them both into his study. Once there, the Dark Lord pointed to the table where she usually studied.

"Work and do not bother me."

"But..."

The Dark Lord's gaze made her swallow back her questions, and Hermione settled reluctantly. Why had he said that he needed her if he did not ask her anything?

oOoOoOo

During the afternoon, uninteresting Death Eaters had come and left, and Hermione still did not know why the Dark Lord needed her. She had tried one more time to ask a question, but Voldemort had not even bothered to turn his head towards her and she had resigned herself to not knowing.

She was immersed in an advanced Arithmancy book when the painted snake guarding the door hissed. As always, she lifted her head slightly to find out who it was. Since she had been working in the Dark Lord's study, she had understood that Voldemort's visitors could be classified in three categories.

The first category was his inner circle Death Eaters: Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, Tyler Greengrass and Severus Snape, who all regularly came to the Dark Lord's study. Their conversations with the Dark Lord were civil, and she had only once seen Voldemort throw a Cruciatus to Lucius. These discussions usually taught Hermione a lot of things, and she summarized them in her head for Severus Snape as soon as she had the opportunity - in case he was not already aware of them. The three men generally greeted Hermione with a respectful nod, but with Bellatrix the tension was palpable as soon as they exchanged glances – glares.

The second category was the other Death Eaters. They angered the Dark Lord more often, and none of them dared to express his opinion in the presence of Lord Voldemort. However, if the Dark Lord did not hesitate to torture them, he let them leave his study alive. Most of them deeply bowed to her after having knelt in front of the Dark Lord, as if she was part of the inner circle.

The last category was the non Death Eaters. Suppliers of the Dark Lord in grace or disgrace, Ministry officials having unfortunately attracted Lord Voldemort's attention, or some poor sods having in their possession knowledge or property that the Dark Lord coveted. Each of them was shaking from fear in front of him, and Voldemort looked at them with the same contempt he used for his house-elves. Generally, those did not even dare to show that they had been aware of her presence for fear of annoying the Dark Lord.

When the doors finally let the visitor in, Hermione noticed that he was a tall black man, wearing a shimmering purple and yellow robe that seemed particularly out of place in the Dark Lord's luxurious and stylish study. His clothes immediately categorized him in the third group, but he walked in with a steady step, as if he was not at all afraid of the Dark Lord. He smiled calmly, and bowed his head slightly to greet the Dark Lord.

"Hello Marvolo," he said in a deep voice.

Hermione looked at him with surprise – shocked to hear him pronounce the Dark Lord's middle name –, and pushed her magic to meet his, a quick check she always made with new visitors. The black man's magic seemed to be spinning around him, slowly, but with impressive power and mastery. He immediately noticed her investigation and turned quickly to her.

"Well, that's a nice surprise," he said, looking at her with a strangely amused look.

Hermione felt the magic of the man move suddenly and she immediately had the deepest conviction that his magic was powerful enough to stab her as if it was a dagger. She let her book drop on the ground out of fear and jumped behind the couch to protect herself as the man burst into a loud laugh that resounded in the study for a long time. She glanced out of the sofa cautiously, just in time to see the man sending Voldemort a cheery look. A look Voldemort did not return.

"Won't you introduce me to your friend Marvolo?" the man asked.

Hermione was still shocked by his familiarity with the Dark Lord. And even more by the fact that the Dark Lord was still not aiming his wand at him, a Crucio on the tip of his lips. Her gaze wandered between the two men staring at each other, until Voldemort declared in a bored voice:

"Asma, meet Hermione Granger. Hermione, meet Asma Bacaffa from Ethiopia."

Hermione looked at them suspiciously, and she had to restrain herself from moving back as the Ethiopian wizard stepped towards her. But he simply grabbed her right hand and delicately kissed it.

"I am absolutely delighted to meet you Miss Granger. Such a beautiful aura! Marvolo is lucky to have you by his side."

Completely dumbfounded, Hermione did not even withdraw her hand and found nothing to answer.

"Asma," Voldemort snapped. "I have not urged you to come here to flirt with Hermione."

"Such a pity," the wizard sighed before turning towards Voldemort. "To what futile subject do I owe the honour of seeing you again then?"

Hermione absently sat back on the couch, wondering who Asma Bacaffa from Ethiopia could be. She had never seen anyone talk so freely with Lord Voldemort. Never. Was it possible that he was another one of those magi? After all his magic was scarily powerful.

"A certain Egyptian amulet," Voldemort replied curtly. "That you have already possessed."

His tone was as cold as ice, but the other wizard did not seem to mind. He wandered around the room, observing the various books and magical items that were exposed.

"' _Greatest Wizards Magical Auras'_ huh?" Asma Bacaffa commented, looking at one of the books on the Dark Lord's desk. "I thought it was impossible to found it."

"Not for me," the Dark Lord replied with arrogance.

"Is it really a must on polarity?" Asma Bacaffa asked with undisguised curiosity.

"Undoubtedly."

Voldemort moved closer to the other wizard, his attitude falsely relaxed.

"Where is Seth's amulet Asma?" he asked in a tone that left no room for contradiction.

But instead of shrivelling in front of the Dark Lord, Asma Bacaffa kept the same affable attitude.

"Aren't you going to offer me a drink? You owe me that, I came from far away to meet you today."

"Sooner or later Asma I will kill all the magi, and you will be the one who will suffer the most."

Hermione resisted the urge to fidget. She had been correct. Asma Bacaffa was another mage. And immediately Hermione's mind started twirling with questions. How many other magi were there outside? Would they be able to help the rebels to defeat Voldemort? Why could not the Dark Lord kill the magi right now? And if they really were wizards so powerful that Voldemort could not kill them, why had not they done anything against his tyrannical reign?

"I must admit that a part of me would love to see you defeat the magi. It would be an absolutely magnificent fight. Hmm, I would even give my humble home to be able to see that!"

A semblance of a smile appeared for a moment on the Dark Lord's face, before his expression became cold again.

"Let's go somewhere else," he said briskly.

"Very well, very well. Miss, I hope to see you again soon," Asma Bacaffa said.

And the two wizards exited the room, leaving a perplexed Hermione alone in the Dark Lord's study.

oOoOoOo

Voldemort guided Asma through the hallways, and the two men remained silent until they reached a small living room, the same one he had dined in with Hermione a little less than a week ago. He invited Asma to sit in one of the armchairs and sat in front of him. With a fluid wand motion, he conjured two glasses and a bottle, and Asma leaned forward to read the label.

"Dragons' Cognac? I can only approve, it is far better that the usual British Firewhisky," Asma commented.

"The French have always shown more refinement in fine alcohol," Voldemort said evenly.

A lazy gesture later, the two glasses were filled and the Dark Lord handed one to Asma. The Ethiopian wizard immediately savoured a sip, sinking comfortably into the armchair, his gaze seemingly focussed on castle's beautiful gardens.

Voldemort looked at him calculatingly. He had done the correct things to ensure that Asma would talk. The inconsequential banter. The legendary books in his study. Hermione's presence. Asma would not be able to resist the urge to satisfy his curiosity. Voldemort would probably need to bear ten more minutes of uninteresting discussions, and afterwards Asma would answer all his questions.

"I'll be really pleased to have the opportunity to see your library one day," Asma said. "Perhaps you would even let me borrow two or three books from it?"

"You, using books?" the Dark Lord said sarcastically. "Are you feeling unwell Asma?"

"Very funny Marvolo. Anyway, I doubt that you have the ones I'm looking for. I've been trying to get hold of Mubarak Shah's diaries for decades now," Asma Bacaffa said with fatality.

An amused smile played on the Dark Lord's lips, and Asma looked dubiously at him. Despite controlling almost half of the world's magical population, Asma and the other powerful magi still sometimes underestimated him. It would be their downfall. With a wand motion, he made several manuscripts appear in front of the wizard and Asma looked at them with astonishment.

"It doesn't really surprise me, actually," Asma Bacaffa said. "After all, you've always had the knack for getting your hands on the most interesting knowledge. May I?"

"Of course. I have never particularly enjoyed magical trances."

"A real pity!"

Voldemort looked at him sceptically and Asma smiled widely. Then the wizard plunged into the scrolls, handling them with great care, until Voldemort finally lost patience.

"You lied to me at the equinox," he said calmly.

"I was not aware of the existence of your charming young friend."

"Even without Hermione, you knew very well that I would have managed to find a suitable person."

Asma put his glass down and looked at him with a seriousness that did not fit him. Voldemort instantly felt annoyance rising in him. Would Asma be stupid enough to try to lie to him?

"The amulet is no longer usable Marvolo," Asma announced.

He was not lying.

"No longer usable?" Voldemort repeated coldly.

"One of our experiences did not go as planned."

Voldemort's magic made the room shake with anger, and some of the Cognac was spilled on the table, none of the magi paying any attention to it.

"You have destroyed Seth's amulet? Did you have any idea about what you have annihilated Asma?"

Asma looked at him suspiciously and Voldemort immediately regretted being carried away. After all, he was almost certain that none of them knew the most secret powers of the amulet. Not Maria, not Asma and not Alexandra. They were missing the most interesting part. And Asma had unfortunately enough curiosity, and enough lack of moral values, to dig into the subject if Voldemort was not cautious enough.

"Is there anything left of it?" he asked, forcing himself to look relaxed.

"It is not destroyed. The last time I've seen it, it just wasn't working properly anymore."

That was better. It was not because these incompetents could not make the amulet work that he would not achieve it. Especially since, unlike the others, he knew perfectly well all its properties.

"From your statement I suppose Alexandra is the one who kept the amulet?"

His voice had become perfectly mastered again, just like his expression.

"Indeed."

"And where would I find Alexandra?"

Asma let a few seconds pass before answering.

"I suppose you are aware of the fact that Alexandra doesn't like you at all? Prince Volkonski's death had not improved her opinion of you, and your tornado at the last equinox has almost killed Akinito."

His tone was laced with a slight reproach.

"Really?" Voldemort said disdainfully. "If it is true then Akinito does not deserve anymore to be among us."

"Akinito's a great mage Marvolo, no one masters legilimency like him! And…"

"Where is Alexandra?" Voldemort interrupted him dryly. "I know you see each other regularly."

"She will surely be at the equinox soirée late September," Asma Bacaffa answered, shrugging his shoulders indifferently.

Voldemort struggled not to kill him. Asma was not stupid; he knew he would have to end up giving the information to Lord Voldemort. If he still wanted to banter before, it was fine, Voldemort was in no hurry. And he would make Asma pay for all the time he had lost when he would finally be able to kill the wizard.

oOoOoOo

Hermione waited for a minute after the two wizards left, and then rose briskly. She had the Dark Lord's study all for herself. With quick steps, she moved closer to the book Asma Bacaffa had examined. She was absolutely sure she had never seen it on the Dark Lord's desk before today, and she wondered if he had put it there specifically for the other wizard. That Voldemort was doing some staging of valuable books was highly intriguing, and she wondered once more what was so interesting about Seth's amulet.

However, Hermione could not do anything currently regarding the strange Ethiopian mage, nor regarding the amulet, and she leaned towards the book. The title, " _Greatest Wizards Magical Auras_ ", was written in elegant gold letters on a binding that looked like it was several centuries old. The book itself had a strong magical aura, and Hermione could not help but open it. If this book was really a reference in terms of polarity, it may perhaps help her to implement Morgana le Fay's theory...

She flipped through the book, but quickly sighed in frustration. Despite the apparent thinness of the book, there were at least three thousand pages of text. And the most incoherent table of contents she had ever seen. How could a serious book have a chapter titled " _A Morning in Inverness_ "? And it was not even the worst!

Most of the paragraphs did not seem to make any sense either and that frustrated Hermione beyond measure. From the Ethiopian mage's comments, and the Dark Lord's answer, there was no doubt that there was something to be learned from this book. She tapped the Dark Lord's desk with irritation, before focussing again on the book.

"Quaero 'Seth's amulet'," she said.

The book's pages quivered slightly, but did not move, and Hermione frowned in annoyance.

"Quaero 'Seth'," she tried.

This time the pages turned resolutely before settling on a new page, the same one that the Dark Lord had read a month ago.

" _Many theories were made to try to explain the sheer magical power of Merlin and Viviane. Some believed they were soulmates. Nothing could have been more untrue. Only power had managed to bring together Merlin and Viviane. Their devouring ambition had allowed an alliance, where many others in the same situation had destroyed each other, such as Horus and Set..._ "

Hermione had to skip several uninteresting paragraphs - had the author really wanted to make his readers die of boredom? - before finding interesting information again.

 _"_ _The perfect polar opposition of the magical auras of Merlin and Viviane was hardly known among their contemporaries or even among their respective descendants. The different branches of their descendants..."_

The paragraph was then focussing on theories about Merlin's potential heir, but Hermione had already found more than she had ever hoped she would. Was it possible that her aura and the Dark Lord's one were of opposite polarity? Was that why the Dark Lord was looking for Seth's amulet? To increase his power through her?

Hermione snapped the old book shut, and began pacing in the Dark Lord's study. If their auras were indeed of opposite polarity, it greatly simplified the application of Morgana le Fay's theory. It simplified it so much that she might even be able to try it without a wand. For the first time since several days, a victorious smile appeared on her lips.

oOoOoOo

"And how did you meet Miss Granger?" Asma asked.

"Why do you even ask?" Voldemort replied indifferently.

Asma quietly took another sip of cognac before answering him.

"I find it particularly amusing that you surround yourself with her."

His wording immediately made Voldemort suspicious.

"And why would that be Asma?" he asked in a falsely nonchalant tone.

"Although she's quite charming, it seems to me you've never really liked Albus."

Voldemort slowly turned his glass in his hands. How could Asma know that Hermione had been protected by Dumbledore? Even if the old fool had told Asma about his actions, he certainly did not give him the list of people he had wanted to protect. Asma's total lack of allegiance would have made it far too dangerous for Dumbledore to risk it.

"Dumbledore has nothing to be liked for," he said simply.

"And yet you agree to stand alongside his magic, in your own study."

Voldemort stayed silent for a few moments. After several hours, maximum one day, the old coot's ward left no magical trace, he had tested it himself. And Asma was far from being as good as him in detecting magical emanations.

"Albus had planned two rituals," Asma provided finally. "The first one was only meant to protect. But the second one was structured to transfer part of his magical aura."

"Impossible," Voldemort immediately answered. "There is not even a hint of a second ritual in his notes."

Besides, there was absolutely no way to really transfer magic from one person to another one.

"And yet it's clear in Miss Granger's magical aura," Asma replied.

Voldemort struggled not to show his surprise. Hermione's magic could not come from Dumbledore's. Even partially. It was simply inconceivable!

"Oh, that's quite subtle," Asma added. "But I thought even a little bit of similarity with Albus would have disgusted you."

"It is of no importance to me," Voldemort said.

But he was lying. As soon as Asma would be gone he would check this unexpected revelation. And if Asma was right, maybe he would finally implement the plan of simply isolating Hermione for the next five years, just to never ever be in contact with Dumbledore's magic again.

"How has he managed to transfer his magic?" Voldemort asked.

Asma smiled with amusement before answering.

"You probably know that he would not have told me any details. But anyway even the details will not be useful to you. To my understanding, the receiver must consent to the ritual, without knowing what it entails exactly. And the donor should do the ritual of his own free will. I doubt you will agree to the first condition, even if you manage to find wizards agreeing to the second one."

Voldemort nodded reluctantly. He would never let anyone perform a ritual on him, even knowing exactly what it was.

"Are you planning to take Miss Granger with you for the next equinox soirée?" Asma asked, completely changing the subject.

His question did not surprise Voldemort in the least. He had known that Asma would be fascinated by Hermione's magical aura. Even without this stupid addition coming from the old coot. Asma was the mage who spent the most time trying to find young wizards and witches worthy of joining their very closed circle.

"I do not think so," he replied with indifference. "I have no wish to babysit her all night long."

The indignation was clearly visible on Asma's face and Voldemort suppressed a smile. He was finally going to have Alexandra's whereabouts. And the remnants of Seth's amulet. This was one of the few reasons why he held Asma in a not so low esteem: for him, magic prowess came first.

"You should bring her!" Asma exclaimed.

Voldemort knew that if he had been anyone else than the sole ruler of the Magical Alliance and the most powerful mage, Asma would not have hesitated to be threatening.

"There is no reason for me to do so, Asma. I do not need to add one more person to the list of those I cannot kill."

Asma, like him, knew very well that if he brought Hermione to the equinox, Maria, Alexandra, and Dae-Ho would do anything for her to attend the University. And afterwards, if her progress was satisfactory, for her to become a mage.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Asma grumbled.

"You know what I want," Voldemort answered calmly.

Voldemort had not been one hundred percent sure that it was a good idea to let Asma meet Hermione. He really had no desire to see Hermione attend the University, and then became a mage. But Hermione's attendance was probably the only thing interesting enough for Asma to trade Alexandra's location for. And if Voldemort could find and repair the amulet, Hermione's attendance would not be an issue anymore. He would delay as much as possible her graduation – he only needed five years after all – and then there would not be any mage that would dare oppose him anyway.

Asma calmly finished the last sips of cognac he had in his glass, before getting up.

"If you really want to see Alexandra, go to Nyaungshwe."

"I will."

Asma Bacaffa nodded, and briskly left the room.

oOoOoOo

A few minutes later, Voldemort was back in his study. Hermione was suspiciously seated in the exact same place as before. Without wasting time he concentrated on her aura, and he could immediately validate what Asma had said. There were definitely some traces of the old coot's magic in Hermione's aura. Small but noticeable, slightly enhancing her own magic, and Voldemort glared at her with evident disgust.

"Tell me what you have done in my absence," he ordered to avoid thinking about Dumbledore's magic.

He saw she was tempted to lie for a moment, before fortunately for her own health resigning herself to the truth.

"I only tried to read ' _Greatest Wizards Magical Auras'_ , my Lord," she replied.

"Tried?" Voldemort questioned.

"I must admit I have rarely seen a book so badly written."

Sensing that she was telling the truth, a semblance of a smile spread the lips of the Dark Lord. Hermione was still far from having the necessary perspective to understand the jewel that was " _Greatest Wizards Magical Auras_ ". He sat in the chair opposite to hers, noting with satisfaction the tension that had appeared in her shoulders due to his closeness.

"Look into my eyes," he ordered.

Hermione met his gaze, and he dived into her mind. He swept away her superficial thoughts and plunged directly into her past memories, around the day when he finally took power of wizarding Britain. He swept a first time thought it without finding anything, and had to review everything a second time to locate hiccups in her memory. Even he had to admit that the memory charm must have been executed with a rare perfection to achieve such result. There was nothing left of Albus Dumbledore's meeting with Hermione Granger in her memories. Not even a frail trace to try to unravel everything.

Voldemort freed Hermione's mind, and stood up as she instinctively put her hands to her eyes, as if it could relieve her pain in any way.

"What's going on?" she asked with a hint of annoyance.

"Nothing that concerns you."

He then ignored her, concentrating on his own work. If he were to go to Burma, he would have to make sure that his Death Eaters could manage a few days without him.

oOoOoOo

 **AN:** See you next week :)


	25. Chapter 25

Hi everyone,

Thank you very much for your reviews, I am always very happy to read them.

I hope you are still enjoying the story.

Have a nice day,

Perhentian

oOoOoOo

 **Chapter 25 - September 1999**

Hermione laboriously drew the last rune on the floor of her room, and then wiped off the blood dripping from her own arm. It was the middle of the night, and the only light in the room was the flickering little blue flame she had wandlessly conjured up earlier. Cautiously, she settled in the runic circle, and for an instant listened carefully to the sounds around her. The castle was completely silent, as always, and it unfortunately gave her no certainty about the presence or the absence of the Dark Lord.

It had been several nights since she had started to try to implement Morgana le Fay's theory. She had spent many hours working on several runic circles to reduce as much as possible the part she needed to do wandlessly, and if the previous ones had turned out to be failures, she was rather confident in the one she had just finished.

She did not have access to black coal of course, or any of the other classic materials to draw runes, and she ended up using her own blood. The macabre aspect of the ingredient put aside, this solution worked particularly well. Her chronic inability to perform a correct Episkey wandlessly had been annoying, until she realized that she was perfectly able to perform a Scourgify without a wand: she was unable to heal the scars she now had on her thighs, but at least she could magically clean the blood stains on her clothes and on the floor.

Focusing on her magic Hermione activated one by one all the runes around her. When it was done she paused a few seconds, repeating in her head one last time the lengthy incantation needed to shift her magical polarity. Then, when she was confident enough she would not mess this up, she finally chanted the enchantments.

She could tell exactly when it worked. All of a sudden, Slytherin Castle's magic connected with hers. But not in the same way she had already felt before, as an old magic that flowed between the stones as in any other magical place. No, this time Slytherin Castle's magic seemed to be an extension of her own, as if the castle was a new part of herself that she had never been aware of before.

"Wow..." she let slip.

She was immediately able to confirm that there was currently no trace of Lord Voldemort in the castle. And that was a great relief, because she was certain that he would not have missed her intrusion, just as she was now distantly aware of the movements of every living soul in the castle.

The information that was pouring from the link was chaotic, not following any spatial logic, and Hermione took several minutes to start interpreting it correctly. But when she finally managed it, she could not help but gloat. She had the entirety of Slytherin Castle within reach. If she spent few hours in this state she could easily draw detailed plans of the place, while staying quietly in her room.

And there, were that not the magical auras of Fred, Susan and Padma? Hermione laughed with relief. They were still alive. They were not even in the dungeons anymore. And there was - at least for the moment - no Death Eater near them.

Hermione then scanned the rest of the castle. She paused for a moment on a room that seemed to be both close to the Dark Lord's library and his study, and was oozing monstrous amounts of magic all around it. Her curiosity was picked. What could the Dark Lord keep in there to release such power? Other Horcruxes? Or some magical artefacts even more frightening? She focused on it for a moment, but was not able to get any more details.

Not wanting to try her luck, Hermione broke the enchantment and shifted her magical polarity back to normal, rising slowly. She would undoubtedly have to go and see for herself what was hidden in this secret room. But to do so she would need to be sure that the Dark Lord was away. She had absolutely no desire to be caught wandering in the most secret places of the castle.

"Scourgify," she casted distractedly on the runes on the floor.

Her runes disappeared, and she could not restrain a huge smile from blooming on her face. She finally had something that could allow her to efficiently oppose the Dark Lord.

But soon after fear replaced her joy. She was a pretty bad liar. She would never be able to hide her good mood from Voldemort. He would spot her lie immediately if she even tried to pretend that nothing had changed. It was already kind of a miracle that she had managed to hide her knowledge of Horcruxes and Severus Snape's role from the Dark Lord.

Hermione started pacing in her room. She had to find something convincing to explain why she was so satisfied. And she only had until the end of the night in case the Dark Lord came back the next day. Her eyes glanced around the room before stopping on the stack of books on the table. Here was her idea, and if it worked, it would only be an added advantage – one that the Dark Lord may even grant her –.

oOoOoOo

Voldemort was walking quietly along the banks of the Inle Lake. Around him the rain was so intense that it should have been impossible to distinguish anything more than three meters away. This was obviously not an issue for him. He knew exactly where he was going, and he was nearly certain to have finally correctly guessed where he could find Alexandra.

He had started to do regular trips to Burma three days ago, searching for traces of the witch in Nyaungshwe area as suggested by Asma. The calm of the lake, the wild mountains around, the multiple temples, Voldemort could not deny that the region itself was charming. But what was particularly satisfying was the power of the magic that was flowing here. A raw magic, seeming to come directly out of the ground, conveyed by all the temples runes. The air was almost vibrating from the power of this magic.

The magic intensity was such that most wizards could not bear to stay a long period of time in the region, feeling oppressed by this perpetually moving power. Voldemort, on the other hand, was deeply enjoying it. Everywhere else in the world, wizards used magic for a specific purpose. But here the magic was manipulated without further motive. The different magical flows existed only because it pleased the monks, a magical river without beginning or end, designed to flow eternally.

He finally arrived in front of a wall of trees and plants densely tangled together. The jungle was spread out right in front of him, falsely impenetrable, protecting Alexandra's house from external visitors. He did not even stop, forcing the trees to step aside as he walked forward. At last he emerged from the jungle in a vast clearing, illuminated by the sun. The garden was perfectly kept, and the astonishingly dry air proved to him that this place was benefiting from a very localized climate, a magically induced one without any doubt.

In the middle was a small dark wooden house on stilts, in a typical Burmese architecture. And at the bottom of the stairs was Alexandra, looking straight at him. He had not been particularly stealthy, but he had not thought that she would have been able to spot him so quickly either.

"Alexandra," he greeted her, his tone devoid of politeness.

"What have you offered to Asma for him to sell my location?" Alexandra asked, just as coldly.

She looked particularly annoyed and Voldemort glared at her disdainfully. She should have known that entrusting any secret to Asma was absolutely counterproductive.

"Barely a glass of cognac," he replied. "It was not worth much more."

"What do you want?" she asked wearily.

A petty smile stretched the Dark Lord's lips. Even the magi did not dare anymore to try their luck against him. And he was not even authorized to kill them! But still Alexandra did not even try to escape, knowing it would be vain. And of course it was also forbidden for her to kill him, even if the mere idea of Alexandra having the power to best him was ridiculous anyway.

"Seth's amulet," Voldemort demanded.

"The amulet no longer works. Asma hasn't told you?"

"He has."

Silence hovered for a few moments before Alexandra scowled.

"You're so sure to manage to fix it, aren't you? Your arrogance has no limit."

"It is my power that has no limit Alexandra."

She obviously did not seem to agree, but he cut her reply short.

"Where is the amulet?" he asked, detaching each of his words.

"In Moscow, in the Rostov's ancestral palace," Alexandra answered calmly.

Voldemort approached until he was right beside her and held out his arm.

"Which district my dear Alexandra?" he asked in a falsely gallant tone.

Alexandra took his arm with resignation.

"Patriarch's Ponds," she answered flatly.

"Really? Do you think I could be a convincing Woland then?" Voldemort asked. (*)

"I would rather not know," Alexandra replied. "But if he was there, Asma would undoubtedly make a conclusive Behemoth."

Voldemort suppressed his amusement at this image, and Apparated them directly to Moscow. He first felt the freshness of the air, particularly pleasant after Burma's sweltering heat. Then the noise of the city assaulted him, far too aggressive after these few hours at the end of the world. And finally sight came back to him. They had arrived right on the edge of the pond, invisible to the many Muggles who wandered through the park this morning of the first Saturday of September.

Alexandra tense beside him, and that amused him greatly. He knew that leaving Russia several months ago had been emotionally difficult for the witch. And it was only a sweet revenge for all the times she had gotten between him and the conquest of Russia.

"Where should we go now?" he asked.

Alexandra guided him through several streets, and they finally arrived in front of some uninteresting building. However, as soon as they passed the porch, a real palace replaced it. The eighteenth century architecture was particularly beautiful, and the delicate white and blue tones contrasted singularly with the grey muggle city all around.

Alexandra took him through the main entrance, before crossing a maze of rooms and hallways with a sure step. The interior of the Rostov's Palace in Moscow was bright, warm, and decorated with an undeniable taste. Everything was done to make the visitor both amazed at the wealth of the family and perfectly at ease.

At last Alexandra invited him to enter a study cluttered with various objects and books. There was no apparent order in the room and Voldemort smiled disdainfully as the witch searched the shelves.

"Do you think that if you had been able to find your own wand in this mess you could have protected your lover?" he asked with cruel irony.

Alexandra turned back calmly, her face a blank mask, and with a lazy hand movement made Seth's amulet levitate towards him. Voldemort recovered it without hurry, hiding the impatience he felt at finally having the amulet in his hands. Then he gazed condescendingly at Alexandra's wand, pointed straight at him.

"I advise you to leave before I indicate to the palace's wards that you are no longer welcome here," the witch said curtly.

Voldemort scoffed scornfully, but when she started to move her wand he still Apparated away without adding a word. He had better things to do than to fight against the ancestral wards of the Rostov's palace.

Back at Slytherin Castle he carefully placed Seth's amulet on his desk. The magical signature emanating from it was undoubtedly different from what it had been years ago, proof of Maria's and her gang's alterations. The elder wand appeared in his right hand and Voldemort started an intensive diagnostic session.

Two hours later, the Dark Lord sank into his chair, and even let out a laugh. Idiots. Asma and Alexandra were complete idiots. They had not broken Seth's amulet. On the contrary, one way or another, they had finalized the enchantments. The amulet no longer allowed temporary transfer of magic, the collateral effect that all had believed for centuries to be its main functionality. What a pity that none of the magi had tried to use the amulet afterwards. It would have turned them to vegetables in just a few months.

If he had been certain that he would manage to finalize the amulet's enchantments, Voldemort had to admit that it could have taken him months of hard work. And Asma and Alexandra currently believed that the amulet was irremediably broken, when in fact they had saved him so much time. He would just slightly modify the amulet so that it would not be recognizable, and at the next equinox, when magic reached one of its peaks, he would give it to Hermione. He was finally going to have the upper hand over the magi.

oOoOoOo

With great satisfaction Voldemort looked at what he had done with Seth's amulet. Even the magical signature had been altered. Carefully he placed the artefact on one of the shelves of his secret room behind his study, a room that was inaccessible to anyone other than him.

He was in an excellent mood. Much better even than when he had found the elder wand, which he was twirling between his fingers with the satisfaction of a greatly done work. He exchanged it for his familiar yew wand before returning to his study. He hesitated for a moment to summon one of his inner circle Death Eaters to have a summary of what had happened in his absence, but he knew that they would somehow manage to ruin his mood.

He exited his study and walked almost mechanically through the hallways of Slytherin Castle, finally finding himself at the door of Hermione's apartment. He dithered a moment. He had not really overcome Asma's revelation about the presence of a tiny part of the old fool's magic in Hermione. The mere memory that he had kissed her made him want to violently torture a dozen people.

But he had to admit that Hermione's company was tolerable. A Mudblood, with no background whatsoever, linked to Dumbledore. And yet, she was one of the few people he had met who was as passionate about magic as he was. One of the few who amused him more than she irritated him.

Voldemort barely moved his hand and the door leading to Hermione's apartment opened. As often, the girl was sitting cross-legged on one of the sofas, immersed in a book, a pen that she must have charmed wandlessly writing her notes. The speed with which she had been able to master wandless magic once he had put her on the right track was astounding. Hermione Granger was undoubtedly made to excel in charms. She was a natural in this field, not like in duel where her level would have only been a little better than average if he had not trained her.

Noticing his presence, she turned her head sharply towards him and the charmed feather fell back on the table. She put the book down and got up.

"Good afternoon, my Lord," she said, bowing to him.

Voldemort immediately noticed the perfectly calm tone of her voice, which was particularly strange. He knew very well that Hermione hated to acknowledge his superiority. And there was always a little intonation in her voice that betrayed just that. He beckoned for her to straighten, and as she obeyed, he could read on her face the confirmation that something had happened. For a month the girl's emotions had always wavered between fear, indignation, and despair. Today her face only reflected a calm determination.

"Explain yourself," he ordered.

A flash of surprise, then annoyance, passed in her eyes, but she remained silent.

"Hermione," he insisted.

She bit her lip, and quickly turned her head towards the table near her. He immediately noticed that it was no longer the books he had selected for her few days ago, but dozens of volumes on advanced duelling techniques, as well as manuals dealing extensively with how to break the wards surrounding a domain. They were undoubtedly coming from his own library.

"An Accion combined with a location spell?" he asked evenly.

"Combined with runes," Hermione replied. "The location spell is too complex without a wand."

"Too complex for you," he said.

"Too complex for me," she admitted.

He came closer, towering over her, and a twitch on Hermione's face betrayed her nervousness.

"And what were you hoping? That you will find something in my library that would allow you to escape? Or perhaps even something to defeat me?" he mocked. "You are a fool if you think you can oppose me Hermione. You will not win."

She was deluding herself if she thought she could do anything against him. It was so ridiculous that it was almost funny.

"And why not?" she answered defiantly.

Voldemort and Hermione looked at each other for a few seconds in silence. Now that she had a real goal that was not out of her reach Hermione could finally analyse her own situation calmly. She was in front of the most powerful wizard in the world, a man who would not hesitate to kill her on a whim if he felt like it. But she had several deadly assets on her side also. Between the two of them, it was just a race against the clock; one that the Dark Lord had not even realized existed.

"You wanted to see me?" she asked, breaking the silence.

She had never been so successful in imitating nonchalance. Still, that did not fool the Dark Lord for a second, and his mocking smirk did not flatter. Suddenly her wand appeared in his left hand, and levitated towards her. Hermione grabbed it quickly, afraid it would disappear, and the wand seemed to radiate warmness under her fingers.

"Would you like to assess if you have progressed since our last duel?" the Dark Lord asked.

He smirked at her, a smirk more challenging than mocking this time, and Hermione found herself smiling back. The contact with her wand was simply exhilarating and she could only admit that she was eager to duel him. She had been unable to use the full extent of her magic for a whole month and it had left her quite frustrated.

"With pleasure," she replied.

Voldemort moved his wand slightly.

"You shall now be able to Apparate in the duelling room. I guess you remember where it is?"

Hermione just nodded, wondering for a moment why the Dark Lord did not make her directly Apparate with him as he had always done. But he had already disappeared and she followed him hastily, feeling ridiculously impatient.

oOoOoOo

The second week of September passed in a disturbing serenity for Hermione. She spent most of her days with Lord Voldemort, and the Dark Lord was of a suspiciously good company. He had allowed her to wander by herself to his library while working in his study, as if to prove to her that what she had told him was the reason of her satisfied mood some days ago was useless.

He had also resumed her duelling lessons, even if the reason behind remained obscure for Hermione. Their conversations had also become almost civil. And to Hermione's greatest relief, the Dark Lord had kept his distance from her, taking care to avoid even touching her.

The Dark Lord's general behaviour was highly suspicious, but Hermione was trying not to pay too much attention to it. She needed to focus on her own objectives: look for an opportunity to explore further Slytherin Castle, and locate new Horcruxes.

oOoOoOo

In the Dark Lord's study, Draco Malfoy was starting to feel more and more afraid. He and his father had returned an hour earlier from Japan, and the Dark Lord was furious that the two wizards had failed. His father had been called in earlier, and it was now his turn to suffer the Dark Lord's wrath. The Dark Lord was obviously getting ready to throw him a Cruciatus and Draco was desperately trying to beg for mercy when the characteristic hiss of the painting guarding the study's doors was heard, freezing the scene.

The Dark Lord hissed something back in Parseltongue and Draco felt an icy chill run down his spine. The snake's language was truly terrifying, and a further proof that the Dark Lord was far above everyone else. He watched the doors open from the corner of his eye, wondering with apprehension who would witness his humiliation. He was surprised to see the girl he had met a dozen days earlier when leaving the same study. She bowed briskly to the Dark Lord.

"Why have you been so long?" the Dark Lord asked.

His voice was cold; and Draco felt a twinkle of hope. If the girl had displeased the Dark Lord more than he had himself, he may punish her and forget about him. Perhaps Draco could still avoid the Dark Lord's dreadful Cruciatus curse.

Voldemort simultaneously noticed the relief on Draco Malfoy's face, as well as the disdainful expression that had appeared on Hermione's at the sight of the young Death Eater, and a cruel smile stretched his lips.

"Forgive me, my Lord," Hermione answered in a calm voice. "It took me some time to find what I was looking for."

"And what were you looking for that was so difficult to find?"

Relief was more and more present on the face of the Malfoy's heir, and Voldemort looked at him with as much disdain as Hermione had had before. Had not Lucius taught him to hide his expressions? Unless it was Narcissa who had spoilt him too much? Or was it the pureblood over present consanguinity which had finally caught up with the Malfoy's line?

"I wanted a book about the theoretical applications of Arithmancy to Hrund's charms," Hermione replied simply.

"George J. Karnworld," Voldemort provided casually.

Hermione nodded and pointed to one of the books she had in her hands, a satisfied little smile on her lips.

"Put the books down and come here," the Dark Lord ordered.

Hermione's smile faded and she came to stand right next to him, looking at him suspiciously.

"Haven't you told me at the end of August that Draco had had a highly inappropriate behaviour towards you Hermione?" Voldemort asked in a falsely light tone.

The young Malfoy's face immediately turned as white as chalk, his eyes staring at Hermione in dread. Ah, so that was why he had dared to bother her the last time. He had not known that she was the Hermione that Lord Voldemort kept close to him, and had believed that he was the one with the upper hand by arrogance. The same error that had made him fail the yet how so simple mission he had entrusted to him.

"Indeed, my Lord," Hermione cautiously replied when it was clear that he was waiting for an answer.

The Dark Lord's cruel smile grew significantly. This would be highly entertaining. He was going to teach the young Malfoy that he did not tolerate failure or disrespect. And he would ensure that Hermione would not grow too comfortable in his presence.

"You see Hermione, Draco has also disappointed me a lot these past days."

He could see with satisfaction that his statement did nothing to appease Hermione's apprehension.

"This is the perfect opportunity for you to learn how to master the Cruciatus curse and perhaps even the Imperium," he added.

Hermione became as pale as Draco Malfoy before, while the young Malfoy mistakenly thought that Hermione's Cruciatus would be less powerful than his. Voldemort pulled Hermione's wand out of his pocket and held it out nonchalantly to the girl. She glared defiantly at him for a moment, before reluctantly taking the wand.

"You would not want to disappoint me, would you Hermione?" he asked evenly.

He saw the knuckles of Hermione's fingers turn white with anger and he let out a joyless laugh.

"Let's start with the Cruciatus curse, shall we?"

He gestured in Draco's direction, the young Death Eater seeming frozen in fear. Hermione grudgingly turned to face him, and raised her wand.

"Crucio," she said without any conviction.

A red jet of light came out of her wand and hit Draco Malfoy, who let out a brief cry of pain. Voldemort did not even glance at him, all his attention focused on Hermione. He knew she had never cast the curse before, and for a moment he could only admire the fact that she was able to even produce something with so little enthusiasm.

"Tsk, tsk, you know that you have to want it for it to work Hermione."

He approached her and wrapped his right hand around hers. Hermione's hand, still holding the wine wand, shook slightly and he tightened his grip.

"Crucio," he hissed.

Draco Malfoy immediately collapsed on the ground and his screams echoed in the room. Hermione briskly pulled her hand away and he smirked at her.

"Is this really necessary?"

Hermione's voice had distinctly wavered at the end of her sentence, and he noticed that she was struggling to keep the indifferent expression he forced her to adopt in the presence of his Death Eaters. Voldemort did not understand why the fate of others disturbed her so much. She could be far more powerful if she finally understood than the weak had no other purpose than to serve. But instead, she was the one being restrained by her weak feelings.

"Of course it is," he replied casually.

"Please, my Lord," Draco Malfoy pleaded. He was still on the floor, and immediately Voldemort's attention was back on him. "Please."

As if his begging could make up for his failures.

"It is not me you shall beg Draco. I will feel compelled to teach Hermione how to correctly cast the spell until she masters it perfectly."

Voldemort motioned for Hermione to start again before Draco Malfoy could answer anything. After all, it was not really to him that his speech was addressed.

"Focus on your hatred before casting the spell," he ordered.

Hermione discreetly glared at him, but eventually obeyed.

"Crucio," she casted.

But the curse was only a weak version of what it should have been, and Voldemort delightedly showed Hermione what he was expecting from her again. It took her two more tries, and as many reminders from his side, before she realized that there was only one way to put an end to this situation.

"Crucio."

Her voice was quieter than the previous times, but when her spell hit Draco Malfoy the Death Eater screamed at the top of his lungs. Hermione's hand began to shake convulsively and she released the spell far too fast.

"My Lord, please, please," Draco pleaded in a broken voice.

None of the Cruciatus curses had really lasted more than a few seconds, not enough to make him insane yet, but it was already his ninth.

"Again Hermione," Voldemort ordered.

She turned to him, her distress visible on her face, begging him not to make her cast it anew. Voldemort leaned towards her.

"If I am satisfied with your spell, it will be the last one," he murmured in her ear.

Hermione nodded, gathering her motivation, and the spell she pulled out of her wand went resolutely into Draco Malfoy's prone form. The young man screamed, thrashing madly on the ground, arching his body in impossible positions, hurting himself in his madness. Voldemort forced Hermione to hold the spell until Draco's voice failed him and his screams became silent.

He casted a disgusted look at the insignificant form of his Death Eater, sprawled on the floor, before returning his attention to Hermione.

"Excellent Hermione. Truly masterful, perhaps even as painful as the ones of my best Death Eaters," he said cruelly.

Hermione did not answer, her whole body shaking imperceptibly. She did not understand how it was possible to experience so much pleasure in seeing others suffer. How it was possible to feel no compassion for anyone. In a daze, she saw the Dark Lord come closer to Draco Malfoy.

"Stand up," he ordered in an icy voice.

It was obvious that Draco Malfoy was not even able to breathe properly, and the Dark Lord lost patience and got him up with a spell. Hermione met his haggard gaze and she felt terribly hollow. She had tortured someone. Lengthily.

"Draco," Voldemort said coldly. "Do not disappoint me anymore, or it is the Avada Kedavra that I will have Hermione practice on you. Am I clear?"

"Yes, my Lord" Draco Malfoy uttered with difficulty.

His voice was horribly hoarse and Hermione convulsively wrapped her hand around her wand, feeling helplessly doomed.

"Get out of my sight."

Voldemort cancelled his spell and Draco Malfoy crashed into the ground with a thud, before pitifully dragging himself towards the exit. When the door slammed behind him the silence fell in the study for a few seconds.

"What could he have done to you to deserve that?" Hermione finally asked tiredly.

She had already seen him torture some of his Death Eaters. She even remembered vividly what he had done to Fenrir Greyback. But each time it was for particularly sensitive subjects.

"It's Japan, isn't it ?" she understood. "He was in Japan with his father ... Have you failed to conquer Japan?"

There was a hint of hope in her voice that definitely irritated Voldemort. She wondered for a moment if he was going to throw her a Cruciatus for daring to rub his nose in this defeat, and she almost wished he would indeed do that. She quickly dismissed this thought though. Being tortured was not going to erase what she had done.

"Japan will be mine before the middle of the month," the Dark Lord stated.

Again she felt this hint of hope.

"Are you leaving for Japan then?"

"And why do you care?" he asked.

His tone was dangerous, daring her to lie to him.

"May I go with you? I would love to visit Kyoto."

Voldemort slowly approached her, stopping just a little too close, and she uncomfortably bent her neck to keep looking at him.

"What are you hoping for Hermione? You think that you can stop me if you tag along? Quite unrealistic don't you think? Go back to your room. I will be back in less than two days, and it will be to celebrate a victory."

Hermione turned away quickly and walked out of the Dark Lord's study. As soon as the doors closed behind her, a victorious smile spread all over her face. She finally had the perfect opportunity to search the castle while the Dark Lord was away, and she was going to make a good use of it.

oOoOoOo

 **AN:** See you next week!

(*) This is a reference to Michael Bulgakov's novel, "The Master and Margarita ", whose plot begins in the park surrounding the Patriarch's Ponds in Moscow. Woland happens to be the devil, and Behemoth one of his accomplice.


	26. Chapter 26

Hello everyone,

So, first a bad news: I won't be able to publish each week for the next month, so I will go back to a one chapter each two weeks publishing pace. Will probably go back to one per week in November.

Still, I hope you will enjoy the next chapter,

Have a nice day,

Perhentian

oOoOoOo

 **Chapter 26 - September 1999**

On Sunday, the 12th of September, at around seven in the morning, Lord Voldemort was walking down the streets of Kyoto, Bellatrix on his heels. If the weather in England was mild, it was ten degrees warmer in Japan, and the sun was already heating the streets. It was definitely going to be a nice day in Kyoto. At least for him.

The street around them was narrow, lined with wooden houses and trees extending their branches over the high fences surrounding each house's gardens. In spite of the black wizarding robes they both wore, none of the Muggle passers-by paid them any attention, totally unaware of the danger lurking in the middle of them.

"Avada Kedavra," Bellatrix whispered almost lovingly.

There was a discreet green glow, and the Japanese Muggle that had just brushed against Bellatrix collapsed on the floor. Most of the other passers-by rushed towards him, not knowing that there already was nothing left to do. Voldemort did not pay them an ounce of his attention.

"Bella," he said, however, a slight warning note unmistakable in his voice.

They were still far from the magical district, but he wished to avoid getting unwanted attention until he could start executing his plan. And his plan definitely did not involve a confrontation with Japanese aurors.

"Forgive me my Lord," the witch answered hastily.

Her crazy curls bounced around her head as she bowed quickly, and Voldemort granted her one of his rare smiles. He could have gone alone, but Bellatrix was going to be very helpful in covering him while he was acting. She was perfect for dealing quickly with any opponent. Perfect for flash actions.

oOoOoOo

Only Harry and Ron were still in the Hamlet's living room when Minerva McGonagall's head appeared in the fireplace around midnight (*). They were still working on the list of items that had been through Borgin and Burke when Tom Riddle was working as a clerk, even if they were less and less hopeful to find any valuable information.

"Harry, Ron, good evening," their old teacher greeted.

"Professor," the two young men mechanically nodded.

They got up and approached the chimney feverishly.

"Are you all right?" Ron asked worriedly.

"Everything is fine," McGonagall reassured them. "Harry, there is someone who wants to talk to you at my place."

Harry casted a questioning look at McGonagall. The witch nodded slowly, and a slight smile appeared on Harry's face.

"At last," he said with relief. "Ron, you'll wait for me, won't you?"

"Of course."

Harry grabbed a pinch of Floo powder and rushed into the flames as soon as McGonagall was out.

"Bird's Hill, six eight four," he said distinctly.

The trip shook him violently and when he arrived Harry crashed with even less grace than usual on the floor. He was, however, very quickly standing again with his wand pointed in front of him. He sighed with relief as he recognized the kitchen of the little house where McGonagall now lived, and McGonagall herself posted in one of the corners. Their Floo network was artisanal and clandestine, and despite the passwords, a moment of inattention could have dire consequences.

McGonagall motioned him to follow her into the living room and he complied eagerly. He had to discuss many things with Snape. Their spy was waiting for them, his posture as always very stiff.

"Potter," he greeted disdainfully.

"Snape," Harry answered in the same tone.

McGonagall looked at them with exasperation, but they both ignored her. Despite all the help he provided them, there were far too many things for which Harry could never forgive Snape.

"The wolf is absent?" Snape asked.

"On a mission," McGonagall replied.

There were a few seconds of silence before Snape spoke again.

"The Dark Lord and Bellatrix have left Slytherin Castle two hours ago."

"Do you know to where Severus?" McGonagall asked.

"Probably to Japan. I met Lucius and Draco tonight and the Dark Lord seemed hardly satisfied with their failure. He had probably decided to take things in his own hands, even though I have no idea what prompted him to do that so quickly."

It had been years since the last time the Dark Lord had personally participated in any conquest, now letting his Death Eater do all the work and only travelling to celebrate his victories.

"We need to warn Bill and Sirius," Harry said, his worry evident in his voice.

If Voldemort himself was in Japan they were in great danger. Harry remembered with anguish that Bill and Sirius had been trying for weeks to protect the Emperor's family, and that would probably be Voldemort's first target.

"Unfortunately we do not know how to reach them, Harry," McGonagall pointed out.

Harry scowled, knowing that she was perfectly right.

"Have you found anything Potter?" Snape asked curtly.

It took Harry a few seconds to understand what Snape was talking about.

"We made two lists. The valuable items that passed through Borgin and Burke, and all the people the young Dark Lord has visited before his disappearance."

"Let me have a look at it."

Snape first reviewed attentively the objects' list, then the people's list, his face reflecting only the most perfect indifference.

"He visited Hepzibah Smith many times before she was murdered," he said. "Why is she so low in your priorities?"

"Hepzibah Smith bought Slytherin's Locket a few years before the Dark Lord started to work at Borgin and Burke," Harry said gloomily. "Looking at the records was a good idea, but it looks like it leads to one of the Horcruxes we've already destroyed."

It was particularly discouraging to know that they did all this for nothing. Snape did not answer and kept looking at the list.

"Slytherin's Locket?" McGonagall pipped in. She was also seeing the list for the first time. "I thought Hepzibah came down from the Hufflepuff's line."

An expression of surprise passed over Snape's otherwise expressionless face.

"Hufflepuff's Cup," he murmured.

"Hufflepuff's Cup?" Harry asked.

"Bellatrix always likes to remind everyone that she is the Dark Lord's best Death Eater. That she is the only one he now entrusts to take care of his secrets. Lucius usually reacts very badly to this. They nearly duelled a few years ago about that. I remember that Bellatrix had mentioned a diary, as well as the Hufflepuff's Cup, before Lucius violently silenced her."

"It could be a possibility," McGonagall agreed.

Harry felt a little more hopeful than before. A track was always better than nothing. And right now they were desperate for tracks not to sink into depression.

"What has Bellatrix done with this cup?" he asked.

"I have no idea," Snape replied.

oOoOoOo

Hermione looked at the clock one last time. 2am. If the Dark Lord had lied to her and had not left to Japan, she hoped he would at least be sleeping. Otherwise, she would be in deep trouble. So deep that she would probably never emerge from it.

"Come on Hermione," she chastised herself.

A few minutes later she was once again in contact with Slytherin Castle's magic. She searched anxiously for a hint of Voldemort's presence, and relaxed only when she was sure he was nowhere in the castle.

She then sought out Nagini's presence, and located the snake in a relatively distant room she had never been to, and finally all the Death Eaters present in the castle. And Hermione swore. There were more people in the castle tonight than the first time she had used Morgana le Fay's theory last week. And above all, there were two or three Death Eaters right next to where she wanted to go, in the part of the castle where Fred, Susan and Padma were held prisoners.

She started to nervously pace in her room. She had hoped to use this opportunity to free Fred, Susan and Padma. The last time, she could have easily found them, guided them through the castle avoiding Death Eaters and leaded them beyond the limits of the non-Apparition wards surrounding the place.

But she could not duel two or three Death Eaters without a wand. And she doubted she would be able to convince them that she was escorting Fred, Susan and Padma away all by herself on the orders of the Dark Lord. And those Death Eaters were not moving in the least, it was obvious that they were guarding the hallway she needed to walk through to reach her friends. Was it because the Dark Lord was planning to stay absent longer this time? Or had it been an anomaly that there had been no Death Eaters the last time?

Cursing her back luck, Hermione still leaved her room, but in the direction of the Dark Lord's study. If she could not free her friends, she would at least go and see what was in the strange room right next to the library and the study.

oOoOoOo

Voldemort paused and Bellatrix briskly jumped to the side not to crash into him, her lips pursued in a thin line for a moment at this idea, before her face morphed back to her usual exalted expression.

"Is it there, my Lord?" she asked, looking greedily at the doorway just in front of them.

Voldemort nodded briefly, and Bellatrix bounced on her toes impatiently by his side. He raised his yew wand, and with a few movements he undid the protections surrounding the place as if they were paper. Immediately afterwards, he casted his own anti-Apparition and anti-Portkey wards, which were far more powerful.

"Nobody shall get out of here Bella," he ordered.

"No one will get out, my Lord," Bellatrix promised, bowing to him.

They crossed the doorway as if it did not exist at all, and found themselves in a beautiful Japanese garden. It was very calm, multiple ponds and rivers, trees with autumnal colours, and little red wooden bridges. Some plants quivered slightly as they approached, curling up on themselves as if they were sensing their threatening auras.

The only audible noises in the garden were lazily flowing water sounds, and Voldemort headed for the house. About twenty wizards were inside the emperor's residence, and among them his target, the Japanese heiress, apple of the eyes of the emperor, and the best way to have him abdicate.

oOoOoOo

No Death Eater had been on Hermione's way to the Dark Lord's study, and the girl had been able to get in without worry, luring the painting guarding it as she had lured the rest of the castle. In the absence of Voldemort, his study was strangely empty. Not a single paper was visible on the desk, not a single artefact was displayed, and not a single book filled in the shelves.

Her heart beating erratically in her chest, Hermione apprehensively approached the back wall of the study, right next to where she knew was the access to the library. She could feel that the hidden room was right behind the wall, seeming almost at hand. She spent several minutes examining the magic that was emerging from the room, trying to detect a potential trap.

There seemed to be nothing more than the magical signature and Hermione went one step further despite her anguish. If she asked for the passage, and there was a protection she had not noticed, she would be in trouble. In deep trouble. If she was wrong, there was a risk that this would sign the end of her friends' lives, and hers at the same time.

Part of her was desperately trying to convince her to turn back. That it was too dangerous. That there were too many risks. But she also did not know when she would have another chance to explore this room. She closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her courage, then asked for the entrance, her magic imitating the signature of the Dark Lord's one.

An ark immediately appeared in the wall in front of her, and Hermione swallowed with apprehension. The next moment, she found herself in what seemed to be a small, empty room. She blinked stupidly, perfectly sensing the monstrous quantities of magic that were oozing from everywhere. Then she understood. There was no extra ward to protect the room's entrance, because there were very complex charms to hide its contents. And because of how strong they seemed to be, there was absolutely no chance in hell she could bypass them without a wand.

oOoOoOo

Harry, Ron, and McGonagall were engaged in a lively discussion right in the middle of the Hamlet's living room, their bursting voices muffled by privacy charms not to wake up the rest of the house.

"We must act while Bellatrix and the Dark Lord are absent," Harry said stubbornly.

"Harry," McGonagall replied softly. "We do not even know where to look for this potential Horcrux."

"We could go back to the Lestrange Manor!" Harry suggested.

"If there had been another Horcrux, Hermione would have probably felt it," Ron countered.

Harry looked at him with exasperation, ready to retort to him that in this case, perhaps he could contribute with an idea instead of only dismissing his, when the flames of the chimney lit up. The three wizards turned to the hearth just in time to see Bill Weasley's face appear inside, part of his hair burned and his face covered with blood and dust.

"Bill!" Ron shouted, rushing to the fireplace.

"Sirius and I must evacuate urgently," Bill began. "The Dark Lord's at the emperor's residence. All Kyoto has just been placed under an anti-Apparition ward, and Bellatrix is chasing us."

A rush of anguish instantly overpowered any other emotion Harry could have had.

"China?" McGonagall asked succinctly.

Harry knew that Bill and Sirius would be safer in China than here, and they would not be able to leave again if they set foot in the UK.

"No time," Bill said. "We must leave now."

The urgency in his voice was palpable, and after a dry nod McGonagall casted several incantations to open the access of the Hamlet for them.

"You can go," she finally said.

Bill's head disappeared immediately, and after few seconds Bill and Sirius crashed violently on the living room floor.

"Hi Harry," Sirius said before he could even got up.

Harry noted that his voice was much weaker than usual, and blood was flowing from a wound on his side. McGonagall reacted quickly when it was clear he really was not able to stand up on his own, levitating him to the couch, and began casting basic diagnostic spells.

"What happened?" Harry asked Bill once McGonagall had assured them that Sirius' injuries were not really serious.

"He came out of nowhere all of a sudden. When we realized what was going on it was already too late. It only took him a couple of minutes to abduct Princess Akimi. It was... terrifying."

Bill paused a few seconds, his eyes obviously haunted by memories, and Harry remembered with a shiver the day Hermione, Ron and he had fought the Dark Lord. Terrifying was a very weak word.

"When we realized that they had blocked all the exits, we tried to break out to warn the Japanese government – they are in session right now –," Bill continued. "But we crossed path with Bellatrix Lestrange, and she dropped a part of the house on us."

"There was a chimney in the basement, but the access to the official network was blocked," Sirius added.

"And you only had the intrinsic Floo address of the Hamlet," McGonagall understood.

Bill and Sirius nodded. They both seemed exhausted.

"If they don't check the bodies they may think that we are dead. Unfortunately, we have no way to warn the Emperor from here..."

Depression was evident in Bill's voice and Harry felt his heart squeeze painfully. Would Voldemort really end up controlling the whole world?

oOoOoOo

A frustrated tear ran down Hermione's cheek. It was almost four o'clock in the morning, it had been more than an hour since she had started to try to reveal the contents of the room, but she had to admit that she was totally unable to do so. She could only perform the simplest spells without a wand, and the spells she needed now were definitely not in that category. Worst of all, there were several protections blocking the use of Morgana le Fay's theory. This room was probably the most protected room in the whole castle.

Yielding to her frustration, Hermione stupidly punched one of the walls. Now, in addition to everything else, her own hand was badly hurting. But she refused to admit that she had spent so much time here for nothing. Her thoughts madly swirling in her mind, she began to nervously pace in the small room, before stopping abruptly.

"Oh no it's a bad idea," she muttered to herself. "A very, very bad idea."

But without being able to stop herself Hermione left the room, walked back through the Dark Lord's study and found herself in the hallway again. She convulsively twitched her hands, and it looked like her own heart was trying to get out of her chest out of fear. Following the magical auras she was able to distinguish through Slytherin Castle's magic, she went down one floor – ironically using the same staircase she had used when she had met Bellatrix – and then turn to the right.

She stopped at the corner of a corridor. On the other side was a Death Eater. Which one she had absolutely no idea, but his magical aura was not particularly impressive. Her hands shook briskly and Hermione forced herself to calm down. She would have only one chance to get this right. After the first second, she would lose her advantage of attacking unexpectedly. Concentrating, she focused her magic on the Death Eater's wand. Then with a fluid movement she came out of her hiding place.

"Expelliarmus!" she casted forcefully.

"Huh?"

That was all the Death Eater had the time to say before being hit by her spell. His wand escaped his hand, flying towards Hermione. However, the Death Eater recovered quicker than she had hoped, and he suddenly rushed after his wand. Driven by the adrenaline, Hermione also threw herself forward. She had barely closed her fingers on the wand when he hit her.

But it had been a long time since violent hijacking in a duel could surprise her.

"Stupefy!"

She casted the spell just before crashing into one of the walls. The next moment the Death Eater's body fell to the ground in a thud. She absently recognized Dolohov, and a victorious smile stretched her lips. It could have turned into a disaster, but it had not, and now she had a wand.

oOoOoOo

The night was relatively cool, but the shiver that ran down Harry's back had nothing to do with the weather. It had been a long time since the Order had tried something so dangerous. This mission would likely fail, but even McGonagall had finally admitted that the opportunity was too good to be lost.

Harry, Ron and Bill stopped for a moment in one of the alleys that overlooked the side road. They were going to try to get into Bellatrix Lestrange's vault in Gringotts. It was Sirius who had helped them, when they had questioned him about his cousin's habits. The impenetrable Gringotts. Sirius had said that when she was younger Bellatrix had always claimed that the vaults of pure-blood families were the safest places in the world. Which was probably not far from the truth.

And now they were going to try to get in there. Three fugitives on the run. Without even being sure they could find Hufflepuff's Cup inside. Without even being sure that Hufflepuff's Cup was a Horcrux.

"Follow me," Bill said. "The employee's entrance's here."

"How do you know that?" Ron asked.

"Curse-breakers tend to share their knowledge between them."

They moved quickly until they were in front of a small door that looked quite lame. The street was empty, and Harry and Ron slipped under the invisibility cloak. Bill waited a few seconds before walking steadily towards the employee's entrance. It had been quite long since he had left the country for anyone to recognize him on sight. But Harry still felt his insides writhing with anguish. Fortunately, Bill was not a talented curse-breaker for nothing, and a few minutes later he had forced his way into the bank.

The two goblins on duty looked at him in astonishment, before rushing to the back of the room. Two Stupefy thrown by Harry and Ron stopped them in their tracks, and silence fell on the room.

"Good," Bill said. "Harry, are you sure you can master the Imperium?"

"Sure," Harry confirmed.

They had hardly a semblance of plan. Hide under the invisibility cloak and disillusionment charms. Cast an Imperium on a goblin. And hope nobody would pay attention to them in the middle of the night. It was quite obviously the best recipe for a disaster.

oOoOoOo

Hermione was back in the hidden room. She had dropped Dolohov's stupefied body in the Dark Lord's study. Nobody could get in without Voldemort, and if Voldemort came back while she was still there, Dolohov would probably be the least of her worries.

"Dare Ingressum. Minus Praesidii. Revelare Abscondita."

Hermione casted multiple charms, savouring the feeling of having a wand chanting in her hand. Dolohov's wand did not obey her as well as her own, but it was still enough for what she wanted to do.

"Dare Ingressum. Minus Praesidii. Revelare Abscondita."

Bit by bit the void around her filled in with a white dense fog, which started to fade and reveal the contents of the room. And Hermione was amazed by what was unfolding in front of her. However, she continued her charms, not allowing herself to be distracted until the room was completely unveiled.

When she finally lowered her right hand, the only thing she felt was astonishment. Everything around her was oozing with powerful magic. The room itself was shaped like a heptagon. The arch was one of the sides, and along the other six were finely crafted alcoves. Fascinated, Hermione started to look at each of them.

The first alcove had numerous shelves filled with books. Most did not even have a title on their slice. Among those with a title, she noticed " _Greatest Wizards Magical Auras_ ", and scowled when she remember the gibberish that made up the majority of the book. She also spotted " _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ ", and looked at it as dubiously as when she had seen it the first time, not understanding why this book was so important. Other titles gave her an incredible desire to open the books, such as " _The Book of Knowledge_ ", by Rowena Ravenclaw.

But Hermione held her curiosity back and turned to the second alcove. There were also several shelves, but this time each of them contained various objects. She spotted a reduced solar system that at first glance seemed to be perfectly banal, a glass sphere in which a liquid flowed endlessly, a white gold bracelet vibrating on the spot.

The third alcove contained a basin on a pedestal, strangely alike the one she had seen in the cave where the Dark Lord had hidden the Slytherin medallion. But the basin did not contain any liquid, only a small glowing red stone that floated in the middle.

She stopped short in front of the fourth alcove. Inside, on a small chest of drawers, was placed a simple diary with a black leather binding. The dark magic radiating from it was perfectly recognizable.

"Another Horcrux," Hermione murmured.

She raised her wand in the direction of the little diary, prepared to launch multiple detection spells, before stopping abruptly. She had just noticed a slight tremor in the air in front of the alcove and she felt her hand shake slightly. She had almost ruined everything. If she had sent even the simplest detection spell she would have triggered an alarm signal no doubt connected directly to the Dark Lord.

She swirled Dolohov's wand between her fingers. She had absolutely no idea how this type of ward could be bypassed. Even with a wand. And it was still too early to risk everything to destroy a single Horcrux.

Hermione reviewed what she knew in her head. The ring. The locket. Nagini. The diary. Four Horcruxes she was aware of, but how many others were scattered throughout England, if not beyond? She had no idea at all. To temper her frustration she turned to the fifth alcove.

oOoOoOo

When the imperiused Japanese secretary opened the sliding doors of the council room, Voldemort stepped confidently into the room, princess Akimi's inert body levitating at the tip of his wand. He let the body fall abruptly to the ground. The dull sound attracted all wizards' attention immediately. Most of them just looked at him with terror. Few had the reflex to take out their wands. Such a bunch of incompetent morons without any talent… No wonder it had been so easy to get in here, Voldemort thought disdainfully.

"No one moves or your little princess will never wake up again," he threatened coldly.

The Japanese emperor immediately ordered to all the wizards surrounding him to lower their wands. Bellatrix scowled visibly, disappointed. Voldemort knew that she would have enjoyed another fight. She would not have been able to defeat the twenty or so wizards in the room all by herself, but with his help it would have been an easy fight.

"Marvolo, please stop this madness," a quavering voice on the side pleaded.

Bellatrix turned quickly to the old man who had spoken, her wand pointed at him.

"May I kill him, my Lord?" she asked, her eyes shining with anticipation.

"No, Bella, you may not" Voldemort replied in an equal voice.

Bellatrix looked clearly betrayed. Akinito Meiji chose this moment to quickly move his wand and try to send a message through Voldemort's wards, but the Dark Lord reacted even faster, casting a curse that sent the old wizard waltzing through the room, and recovering the Japanese mage's wand at the same time.

"Too late, Akinito," he said calmly. "The magi will not receive your distress signal. And they probably would not have come anyway, I am not threatening _you_ after all."

The fear in the eyes of the Japanese mage was a delicious sight and it was with a slight regret that Voldemort sent him a simple Stupefy. Then his attention turned to the other wizards in the room, who hardly dared to breathe.

"Now, we are going to have a quick talk all together," he said with a cruel smile.

oOoOoOo

"Bill, on your right!" Harry warned.

Bill avoided the curse at the last moment, and Ron covered him by sending another spell to the wizard who was attacking them.

"Expulso!" Harry casted.

The sound of the skull of the goblin who had tried to surprise him hitting the wall left little doubt about his chances of survival and Harry winced. Their plan was not going at all as planned. Gringotts seemed better guarded at night than during the day. They were still too far from the Lestrange's vault, and the situation was becoming more and more tense.

"We have to retreat," Bill said.

"No..." Harry started.

But at the same time, the wall right next to them exploded and they were forced to withdraw to a corner of the room they were currently occupying. Ron casted a destruction spell on one of the walls behind them to create a way for them to flee. They slipped into it quickly and found themselves in a hallway, facing three furious goblins.

"On the right," Bill said, pointing to another corridor.

The next moment everything went to hell. Harry barely had time to think that the goblins must have done something before part of the ceiling collapsed on them at an unusual speed. The three wizards erected a second too late their shields, and Harry felt a sharp pain in his left shoulder. He heard Bill and Ron scream, and as soon as the ceiling stopped to fell Harry tried to reach them through the debris and the clouds of dust.

"Bill, Bill!"

Ron's voice was panicked and when Harry arrived next to him he nearly retched. A section of the ceiling seemed to have pierced Bill's ribcage, and the whistles that he emitted while breathing were alarming.

"We need to bring him back to the Hamlet urgently," Ron said.

oOoOoOo

Lord Voldemort watched the Japanese emperor deliver his speech with a touch of contempt. Two little Cruciatus curses on his daughter, and it was over for him. Two little Cruciatus cruses and the Emperor agreed to abdicate in favour of one of Voldemort's men. Two little Cruciatus cruses and Japan was under the control of the Dark Lord.

He was standing in the back of the crowd with Bellatrix, both under glamour spells. The wizards before them stared indifferently at the Emperor, without understanding what was currently happening yet.

"Come on Bella, it is time to leave," he said. "Our work here is done."

"Yes, my Lord," Bellatrix replied.

Voldemort blended in with the crowd, Bellatrix on his heels. It had not even taken him twenty-four hours to overthrow Japan. Pathetic.

oOoOoOo

Harry fidgeted uneasily as Molly Weasley bustled around Bill. He and Ron had managed to get out of Gringotts, dragging Bill with them. But by the time they had returned to the Hamlet, Bill's wound had worsened, and it was still unsure if he will recover from it.

Harry had withdrawn to a corner of the living room, letting his adoptive family re-group around Bill, his heart beating painfully from the scene in front of him. His godfather's hand was resting on his shoulder, but it did not offer him any comfort. It was his fault. His fault for wanting to go headlong without really having a plan. His fault for taking Bill with them. If Bill died, he knew he would not be able to look at any of the Weasley again.

oOoOoOo

The first glimmers of the day surprised Hermione as she was still searching for ways around the Dark Lord's wards in the small room. She rushed outside with in a burst of panic, and was relieved to see that Dolohov was still stupefied. She levitated the wizard to where she had found him and laid him on the floor.

Hoping that no one would notice her, she was about to go to try to release Fred, Susan and Padma now that she had a wand, but a tiny disturbance in the castle's magic made her stop dead in her tracks. She reacted in the blink of an eye, cancelling with precipitation Morgana le Fay's charms. She briefly noticed the presence of the Dark Lord's magic just before the enchantments vanished and she froze in complete terror.

Glancing madly all around her, she lost a few seconds panicking. She was right in the middle of Slytherin Castle, a stupefied Death Eater at her feet. Then her brain started to work again.

"Obliviate, Enervate," she casted hurriedly.

She gave back his wand to Dolohov, before rushing to her room. Her heart was pounding painfully in her chest and she was focused entirely on her goal to reach safety quickly. So much that when she noticed Bellatrix's magical aura approaching her, it was already too late.

oOoOoOo

 **AN:** See you in two weeks!

(*) I would like to point out that in September there is 8 hours of time difference between Japan and England.


	27. Chapter 27

Hello everyone,

Thanks for the reviews / favs / follows and to all the readers. And sorry for the delay…

One of you noticed that I was using the word "Stupefix" (used in the French version of Harry Potter), instead of the English "Stupefy"; I corrected it in the coming chapters, and would correct in the past ones when I will have a little more time.

I hope you will enjoy this chapter.

Have a nice day,

Perhentian

oOoOoOo

 **Chapter 27 - September 1999**

 _She gave back his wand to Dolohov, before rushing to her room. Her heart was pounding painfully in her chest and she was focused entirely on her goal to reach safety quickly. So much that when she noticed Bellatrix's magical aura approaching her, it was already too late._

Hermione and Bellatrix both stopped dead in their tracks. The exact same look of surprise passed over their faces. Then they exchanged a hateful glare and Bellatrix' wand appeared in her hand. Hermione looked apprehensively at the other witch. If Bellatrix had always taken care to contemptuously ignore her in the presence of the Dark Lord, she knew the insane witch would not restraint herself in his absence. She was crazy enough to try to bypass the Dark Lord's orders.

"Are you lost my poor little girl?" Bellatrix asked playfully.

She cackled at her own remark, and Hermione noticed that Bellatrix had discreetly moved into a falsely relaxed duelling stance. Hermione supressed her urge to swear loudly. She had really no wish to start a duel with Bellatrix without a wand.

"Get out of my way Bellatrix," Hermione said with a steady voice.

She took a step forward and Bellatrix immediately pointed her wand at her. So much for her hopes to be left alone if she was confident enough.

"I think you don't belong here little Hermione," Bellatrix said, tilting her head to one side. "And it's my duty to uncover impostors and punish them."

"The Dark Lord has ordered you to leave me alone, Bellatrix."

To her utmost satisfaction, her voice did not falter, despite her nervousness. Was there any chance that Bellatrix would be reasonable? She doubted it strongly.

"I don't know what you did to convince the Dark Lord, but you haven't convinced me. And the Dark Lord will thank me when I'll prove your duplicity to him."

Hermione held back a contemptuous snort. Bellatrix had no idea that the Dark Lord knew perfectly well that she supported the rebels.

"You hold him in quite a low esteem if you think I have managed to lie to him," she said.

"Crucio!"

Hermione threw herself on the side and narrowly avoided the spell. She swore in her head, wondering how she would manage to get out of this situation. She knew that Bellatrix could torture her to madness if she wanted to. And her completely disturbed look was no reassurance at all. Maybe if she fled...

"Diffindo," Bellatrix casted when Hermione looked quickly behind her.

"Expulso," she countered immediately.

She moved immediately after but Bellatrix's curse still managed to slash her left shoulder and she uttered a scream of mixed pain and rage. Bellatrix had deflected her wandless spell with a disdainful gesture and Hermione glared at her. She had only one wish, to knock Bellatrix Lestrange off her pedestal. But of course she was always in front of her when she did not have her wand.

"You're a complete fool if you think you can take my place!" Bellatrix said. "I am the Dark Lord's favourite; I'm his most loyal servant!"

As if she wanted to become the Dark Lord's most loyal servant…

"Really?" Hermione said scornfully.

There was no shelter behind her, nor in the hallway she had just come from. If she moved back in this hallway, there would be even less space for her to move around and she would not even be able to avoid Bellatrix' spells anymore.

"He had chosen me to go to Japan with him today. Not Lucius, not Severus, not Tyler and of course not you. I learned the Dark Art from him, and I know spells of such power that you, pathetic little girl, can never hope to compete!"

Hermione could not keep a mean smile from blossoming on her lips. Bellatrix did not even know the Dark Lord was teaching her. That it was with her that he now shared his knowledge. That she was probably the one who was spending the most time with him those days.

"If you say so," she said.

Her tone must have been a little too dismissive because Bellatrix reacted immediately.

"Crucio!"

This time Hermione was not able to avoid the Cruciatus cruse and she collapsed on the ground. Every tiny part of her body seemed to have caught fire. Her skin. Her muscles. Her blood. She resisted the pain for a moment before capitulating and screaming at the top of her lungs. Her world was no longer anything but this pain that she could not ease.

She was so obsessed with pain that she needed several seconds to realize that the spell had ended. Her magic was pulsing around her in waves, tense, ready to attack, and she had to concentrate to prevent it from exploding in a totally uncontrolled way. Then, suddenly, she felt a piece of wood under her fingers. She turned her head sharply to her right hand, and her eyes confirmed what she already suspected. Quickly, Hermione straightened, much more panicked than before.

"That's it? You finally decided to fight little girl?" Bellatrix taunted.

But Hermione's attention was only partially focused on her. All her senses frantically searched around her, in vain. And yet, there was only one possible explanation for the appearance of her wand in her hand. Lord Voldemort was there somewhere, watching them.

"Praemio," Bellatrix said.

Hermione casted a powerful shield just in time and focused on the fight again. She would deal with her problems one after the other, and for the moment, Bellatrix Lestrange was undoubtedly the most urgent one, if not the most frightening.

"Exitite Terra," she casted.

But Bellatrix blocked her spell and she had to jump to the side to avoid a new Cruciatus curse.

"Diffindo! Confringo!" she replied.

The other witch avoided her spells with ease before attacking her again with a volley of hexes that Hermione did not know, and did not even wanted to. She narrowly blocked them. She was distinctly less comfortable than Bellatrix in a duel, but she refused to be beaten by this witch.

A curse destroyed a painting right behind her and Hermione casted a spell that burnt part of Bellatrix's dress, distracting the witch for a split second.

"Wingardium Leviosa, Oppugno," she continued.

The painting fragments sharply flew towards Bellatrix, who disintegrated them with a flick of her wand before replying at a frightening speed.

"Crucio!"

"Nocere!"

"Flecte Carnes!"

"Diffindo!"

"Impero!"

"Expelliarmus!"

"Confringo!"

This time an entire wall exploded behind Hermione and there was a pause in their fight. Hermione was struggling to catch her breath, while Bellatrix seemed just as fresh as in the beginning. Hermione's grip on her wand tightened. She refused to yield. For the moment she had managed to hit Bellatrix as many times as the crazy witch had hit her, even though her wounds were deeper.

They restarted the duel again, casting numerous spells. More and more vicious. More and more powerful. Hermione found herself projected rudely against a wall and managed only by chance to keep her wand. Bellatrix's attacks were now brutal and Hermione knew that if any of her spells hit her that would be the end of the fight for her. She did her best to remember all the advices of the Dark Lord. Focus on the magic and not on the person. Do not move unnecessarily. Surprise your opponent if he was better than you.

With a few wand movements Hermione materialized a hydrogen cloud. Colourless. Odourless. Bellatrix sent her a series of curses and Hermione avoided them by diving to the side, not wanting to release her stranglehold on her hydrogen cloud. Gently she had it surround Bellatrix. A Diffindo slashed her leg and she screamed, but the hand holding her wand remained firm. She needed just a little more time. Still a little bit. Then Hermione suddenly increased the concentration of the gas.

The resulting explosion was concentrated on Bellatrix but the din was still deafening. Hermione quickly dispelled the surrounding dust with a wand motion. Bellatrix was down, visibly hurt. Her gaze was particularly hateful and Hermione allowed herself a satisfied smile. At the moment when she was going to disarm her, Bellatrix gaze settled right behind her.

"My Lord," the dark witch said, bowing obediently.

Hermione turned around abruptly. She barely had the time to notice that there was still no trace of the Dark Lord that Bellatrix's Cruciatus was hitting her in the back.

Hermione collapsed to the floor screaming in pain. She tried to focus on her wand, on some sort of spell to send back, but her thoughts invariably drifted into an ocean of pain that had no beginning or end. And when the spell stopped, she could only notice that her right hand was empty.

She raised her head slightly, and saw Bellatrix waving her wine wand casually, a vicious smile on her lips. Hermione's body tensed with rage. She could not lose. Not against Bellatrix. She could still try to surprise her by using wandless magic. But Bellatrix's posture remained alert, leaving no room for her to act.

"Poor, small, insignificant, Hermione," Bellatrix mocked. "I'm going to make you scream until you confess what you've done to him."

Hermione felt her magic pulse around her. She hated this crazy bitch. Her magic crackled around Bellatrix without her paying any attention to it, too much carried away by her excitement. A powerful magic, a powerful and dark magic, an angry magic. She had never wanted to hurt anyone so much. Then Hermione realized that the violent magic filling the air was not just hers. Her gaze settled behind Bellatrix, and confirmed to her that the Dark Lord had finally deigned to reveal his presence, surely annoyed by his Death Eater's disrespect towards him.

"You're not worthy of him! He's been bewitched!" Bellatrix continued. "He should not trust you!"

Hermione burst out laughing. She was not particularly happy with Voldemort's presence, but she knew that Bellatrix's words would drive him over the edge. The witch's wand was now aimed at her.

"Behind you," Hermione warned simply.

"Do you think you can copy me? You're completely stupid my poor girl! Cru..."

"Bella."

Bellatrix Lestrange turned around briskly. Lord Voldemort stood behind her, nonchalantly leaning against one of the walls of the hallway, next to a painting that had obviously been hit by one of Hermione's cutting spells. Bellatrix fell to her knees as Hermione got up painfully.

"I thought I had forbidden you to duel Hermione Bella," the Dark Lord said in an even voice that froze both Bellatrix and Hermione.

"My Lord, I was doing this for you! I'm sure she's not worthy of you!"

"Crucio."

This time it was Bellatrix's screams echoing down the hallway, and Hermione felt particularly satisfied for a moment. Bellatrix may have won their duel, but she was the one the Dark Lord was protecting. She was the one he was looking after.

Then the Dark Lord moved away from the wall, approaching her, and Hermione's satisfaction turned resolutely into fear. He passed Bellatrix as if she did not exist and stopped within a yard of Hermione, his irritation slightly visible in his eyes.

"I think we have a lot to discuss, haven't we Hermione?"

oOoOoOo

They were back in the Dark Lord's study, and Voldemort beckoned for Hermione to sit in one of the armchairs. Hermione complied while thinking desperately about how to get unscathed of this situation. She definitely could not talk about the secret room. If the Dark Lord learned that the rebels were aware of his Horcruxes, they would have no hope of overthrowing him.

But if she could try to conceal part of her getaway, she could not in any way lie brazenly to the Dark Lord. He always knew when someone was lying to him. Hermione thought for a moment about Harry and Ron to give herself some motivation. She had never been particularly comfortable with the half-truths game.

"Well Hermione, I must admit I am surprised. I would have expected to have to wake you up to celebrate Japan's surrender, and here you are, already awake, strolling through the corridors of my castle," the Dark Lord started in a far too calm manner.

Hermione felt her hands shake and she forced herself to stay focussed and to calm down.

"It's a very nice castle my Lord," she answered mechanically.

She closed her eyes for a moment. Was she stupid or what? Did she really want to end her life right now?

"Really? Perhaps you could tell me which part you were planning to visit then."

His tone was pleasant but his face was cold, and his carmine eyes were trying to pierce her soul, challenging her to lie to him.

"I was looking for my friends," she finally said apprehensively.

The Dark Lord's expression did not change and Hermione felt her heart tighten with fear.

"So you were planning to wander around my castle without being spotted, miraculously free your friends, and then try to run away with them? I thought you were less stupid than that Hermione."

He was not believing her, Hermione realized, and an icy chill slid down her back. She needed him to believe her. She needed him to stop prying in her nightly occupations.

"I know where they are," she revealed. "You had brought me there once, and I was using their magic to guide me."

The Dark Lord leaned slightly towards her.

"So you are able to spot your friends' magic across my castle, but you are unable to avoid Bellatrix?"

Hermione's thoughts swirled in her head, desperately searching for answers to this question without lying, but without revealing too much either.

"I haven't noticed her because I panicked when I felt your magic," she answered carefully.

The Dark Lord stayed silent for a moment, and Hermione had to struggle to calm down her frantic heartbeat.

"Which one of your friend should I kill for your disobedience Hermione?"

Hermione froze completely, unable to breath.

"Unless you have a preference? The stupid redhead? Or one of the insipid girls? It will not be a great loss anyway."

Hermione's distress turned into anger in front of so much cynicism.

"And why not all the three of them, and me in the same package? Or all the citizens of the United Kingdom? If you continue to kill all those who oppose you, you won't have anyone to rule over in a few years anyway."

She had stood up. The Dark Lord stood up also, and stepped right in front of her, his eyes flashing dangerously. She wondered for a moment if he was going to finally kill her, and found herself thinking without fear that it was better for her to die than to reveal anything about the Horcruxes. Her life expectancy had been way too close to zero for over a year, so much that it was a miracle that she had survived for so long anyway.

"I think you overestimate the number of people stupid enough to oppose me, Hermione," the Dark Lord finally answered with a disturbing slowness. "The members of your dear rebellion are only an unimportant embarrassment, and their death will have absolutely no impact on the wizarding world."

"Unless they kill you before," Hermione retorted.

It made the Dark Lord burst out laughing and she glared at him. Did he really think his secret was so well kept? That no one would ever be able to kill him? Even if she failed on her side, she was confident that the rebels would continue and eventually achieve their goals.

"That proves my point, it _is_ better to eliminate all the rebels," Voldemort said with a disdainful gesture.

Hermione wanted to punch him. Hard.

"And why not kill everyone, so there would not even be any resistance?" she suggested with acidity.

"You are completely naive Hermione. A society cannot last long without a strong power in place."

"That's untrue, the..." Hermione began.

"Every human being is out for blood," Voldemort cut her off, getting closer to her. "Every human being aspires to power. The only life worth living is the one at the top of the ladder."

"A strong power doesn't mean deaths at every corner! Neither the slavery of part of the population!"

"The vast majority of the population is happy Hermione. Nobody cares about a few deaths and Mudbloods."

The Dark Lord looked at her with a mocking smile and it only made her anger worse. How could he be so indifferent to the fate of others?

"I care."

If only because she was a Mudblood. But Hermione liked to think that even if she had not been a Mudblood, she would have still stood up against these injustices, as Harry and Ron had done, or even some pure-bloods like Daphne, Blaise, Padma, Parvati and numerous others.

"And that's your biggest mistake," Voldemort said. "You could have had a great life if you had not joined the rebels."

This time it was Hermione who moved closer to him, her lips pursed, glaring at him.

"A great life?" she repeated, raising her voice. "I thought all the Mudbloods were meant to be slaves!"

The Dark Lord looked at her with annoyance.

"Do not make yourself more stupid than you already are Hermione. I have already told you that I did not care about you being a Mudblood."

oOoOoOo

Tyler placed a cup of coffee in front of Severus and the Hogwarts Headmaster thanked him with a nod. As often on Sunday mornings, he was in Tyler's office at the Ministry of Magic. Lucius was for once absent, currently dealing with some business in Ukraine.

"How's Helen?" Severus asked.

It had become almost a kind of ritual, which they had put in place several years ago. When this office was still Lucius'. They were spending an hour to discuss things and others over coffee. Sometimes Bellatrix would join them if she was in the mood. For Severus, this allowed him both to escape his noisy students, and to collect information he would otherwise perhaps never know.

"She's fine," Tyler replied resignedly. "Is the start of the school year going well?"

"As well as possible," Severus replied.

He could hardly admit that without Minerva it was not the same, and it was harder than ever to protect the students from the cruelty of the Death Eaters teaching there. The two men drank their coffee in pleasant silence, before rushed footsteps were heard on the other side of the office's door.

"Bellatrix?" Severus asked.

"And obviously not in a good mood," Tyler sighed.

Severus' face remained impassive, but he hoped deep inside him that the rebels had finished doing whatever they had planned to do while the Dark Lord and Bellatrix were away.

oOoOoOo

Her gaze locked into the Dark Lord's one, Hermione distractedly felt her magic crackling around her due to her exasperation, and clashing violently with the Dark Lord's magic, further exacerbating the tension that prevailed at the moment in the room.

"I refuse to support what you're doing, it's completely immoral," Hermione said.

She walked a few steps away, hoping to escape Voldemort's stifling presence, but he followed her and quickly they were once again very close.

"So you will rather spend the rest of your days supporting a cause lost in advance, without enjoying a single moment of your life? You could become a mage if you go to the University. You could travel all around the world."

"I could have done all this much more peacefully if you had not been the leader of the Magical Aliance," Hermione replied.

Voldemort looked at her with as much surprise as if she had told him she was Merlin's reincarnation.

"Because you think that without me the wizards would have welcomed you with open arms Hermione? On the contrary. All these pure-bloods would have spent all their free time trying to stop you, resenting you for your powerful magic."

"It's always better than torturing me for months," Hermione replied venomously.

Voldemort looked at her with amusement and Hermione had a strong urge to curse him. How dare he compare what he was doing with what her life might have been without him?

"Perhaps," he replied. "But you must admit that there is no better place to learn magic than with me."

oOoOoOo

Bellatrix was complaining and boasting at the same time for already ten minutes and Severus was already fed up. She had told Tyler and him how the overthrowing of Japan with the Dark Lord had been perfect, gloating about the death of her dear cousin Sirius. The knowledge of the dog's death had made Severus neither sad nor happy, as if after so many years the death of the last one of his bullies had finally become irrelevant.

And now, Bellatrix was raving about Hermione Granger. About how the Dark Lord was manipulated by her. About how she would find a way to prove to the Dark lord that she was still his best lieutenant. Severus Snape held back a sigh. This morning coffee had no longer the usual calmness that he was looking for, and he was about to take his leave when there was a knock on the office door.

"Minister, I'm afraid there is an emergency," the voice of Tyler's secretary was heard.

"Please come in Miss Clearwater," Tyler said.

Ravenclaw prefect, had finished Hogwarts in 1994, Severus remembered. The office door opened and the girl bowed briefly to each Death Eater.

"There are several people in the waiting room, Minister. They claim that there was an attempt to break into Gringotts this morning."

Bella's face became immediately as white as chalk, and she threw herself on Penelope Clearwater demanding clarification. Severus felt a deep sense of discouragement. It did not surprise him that Potter was stupid enough to attack Gringotts, but he should have been able to rely on Minerva to hold him back. He hoped that at least they did not get caught.

oOoOoOo

Hermione stared silently at the Dark Lord for a moment, unable to find her words.

"Admit I am right," he demanded.

He leaned towards her as if to prove his point and their two faces were now only few inches apart.

"I could have learned all that from the University," Hermione answered.

Her statement was met with a dubious look she knew she deserved. In no one else had she seen powers as impressive as those of the Dark Lord. Most of the books and objects he owned were supposed to be nothing more than legends. And he mastered enchantments that were commonly accepted as simply impossible.

"Admit I am right, Hermione," the Dark Lord repeated more pressingly.

Hermione's heart was beating madly in her ribcage, and she felt her hands shake with apprehension, refusing to grant him that point. The Dark Lord's carmine gaze was glued to her eyes, and she took a step back as he approached her again. Her back came into contact with something, and by the time she glanced back to see that it was the Dark Lord's desk, he was once again too close to her. And this time she could not step back anymore.

Her breath stopped for a moment in her throat, and she realized that it was no longer her own magic that surrounded her, but the one of the Dark Lord. The tension in the air was palpable, even though it was not really hostility anymore, and Hermione wondered confusedly how the discussion could have drifted so much.

"Admit I am right," the Dark Lord insisted.

"You're wrong," Hermione retorted.

"You're lying," Voldemort said with a satisfied smile.

Hermione shook her head from side to side, a suffocating sensation preventing her from talking for a moment before she recovered slightly.

"I hate you and..."

But she could not continue, as the Dark Lord was kissing her. Hermione was carried away for a moment by the sensation. It was as imperious as the first time he had kissed her. She felt his hand on the back of her head, drawing her closer to him, and his magic enveloped her completely. The nervous tension that had inhabited Hermione since the beginning of their conversation had suddenly turned into something far more disturbing.

Then her intellect took over and Hermione violently pushed back the Dark Lord. He did not resist, but his mocking smile destabilized her.

"Why do you resist Hermione?" he said, gently caressing her cheek. "Let yourself live freely. Stop worrying about others."

Hermione tried to push his hand away, but this time he did not let her, and the next moment her two hands were stuck to the desk behind her by the force of his magic. She tried in vain to disengage herself as he approached again and panic burst into her, without her being able to identify if she was frightened by the situation or by her own reactions.

"You cannot lie about what you want deep down inside you Hermione. I know that you appreciate the moments you spend with me. I know you admire me."

"It doesn't mean that I approve what you do."

She tried again to free herself, without success. The Dark Lord was so close that his robes wrapped around her legs, like another image of the dead end where she seemed to be cornered.

"Please," Hermione tried. "I…"

But already the Dark Lord had grasped her face and was kissing her again. She could not tell if the thrill that ran down her back was a thrill of disgust or desire. Alarmed by this realization she tried again to struggle but realized that the Dark Lord's magic was immobilizing her completely. Her heart missed a few beats.

One of the Dark Lord's hands came down her back before stopping on her hips. Then he brought her body against his with possessiveness. Hermione was not able to process any coherent thought. All she could think about was the electrifying touch of his hands and lips. She had the impression that her brain could not function properly anymore. His magic was making her lose her mind, and it was as if she was just floating elsewhere only with him.

Suddenly a hissing sound rose in the study and the Dark Lord stepped away from her, releasing at the same time the hold he had on her body. Hermione immediately put some distance between them, her legs shaking convulsively. Voldemort face become particularly cold as the hissing continued.

When Tyler Greengrass and Severus Snape entered the study they stopped for a split second, noticing the Dark Lord's annoyance, before kneeling obsequiously. Hermione was so relieved of their timely interruption that she felt the urge to hug them both.

"I hope you have a good reason to disturb me," the Dark Lord said in an icy voice.

"We just had the information that there was an attempted robbery at Gringotts few hours ago my Lord," Tyler Greengrass said.

Hermione distinctly felt the atmosphere of the room become even more threatening, and she wondered if it was the rebels that had done that and whether they had managed to escape in time or not.

"Bellatrix asked us to tell you that she was already on her way," Severus Snape added.

He met Hermione's gaze for a moment and she shared with him her progress. The hidden room. And the diary. Immediately after Severus Snape's attention returned to the Dark Lord.

"Get out of here," Lord Voldemort ordered drily.

The two Death Eaters leaved quickly, and Hermione envied them to be able to do that, especially when the Dark Lord turned his angry glare to her. In a few steps he was on her and he grabbed her arm roughly. The next moment they were back in her room, and she saw him cast several charms on the room's door, no doubt to prevent her from leaving again.

"I will come back as soon as I will be done with these idiots Hermione," he said. "And you will tell me what you were doing in this corridor."

The next moment he was gone.

oOoOoOo

 **AN:** See you in two weeks!


	28. Chapter 28

Hello everyone,

I am so happy to see that this story has reached the cap of 200 reviews!

Thank you very much to all of you, and I hope you'll like the next chapter.

FYI, I will publish the chapter 29 next week, but the following one will have to wait until mid-November as I will be on holidays for several days… but afterwards I should be back on my weekly updates schedule.

Have a nice day,

Perhentian

oOoOoOo

 **Chapter 28 - September 1999**

Lord Voldemort Apparated right in front of Gringotts' gates. It was still relatively early in the morning of the second Sunday of September, and only a few wizards could be seen in Diagon Alley. Most of them moved out of his way with haste and Voldemort paid no attention to them. One witch however stayed frozen right in front of him and with an abrupt hand movement Voldemort sent her flying few meters away.

He had been in Japan for less than ten hours for Merlin's sake, not even a day, and there had been an attempted robbery at Gringotts. Were all his Death Eaters complete idiots? Was it really so hard to keep the country running smoothly for ten small hours? He dearly hoped for Bellatrix that the burglars had been captured.

When Voldemort entered the wizarding bank building, his aura was so threatening that the temperature dropped immediately by several degrees, and everyone inside knelt before him. Including the goblins. He quickly spotted Bellatrix and headed directly towards her, the distance between them forcibly reduced due to the brutal pressure of his furious magic.

"Explain," he ordered dryly just after casting several discretion spells.

He could see Bellatrix shake slightly from the coldness of his voice.

"Several people managed to get into Gringotts using the employees' entrance between four and five o'clock this morning, my Lord."

"How many and who?"

"It is not quite clear, my Lord," Bellatrix said hesitantly. "There were at least two of the Weasley boys, but there may have been a third person according to the goblins, although they claim they have never been able to see her or him."

An invisibility cloak, Voldemort immediately understood. He would have been willing to bet a lot of money that Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley had been part of this stupid expedition. And finding Hermione wandering freely in the hallways this precise night seemed even more suspicious now.

Few angry sparks emerged from his wand when he remembered that he still did not know why Hermione had been out of her room, or even how she had managed that. All because he had let himself be dragged into a completely secondary debate about Mudbloods' slavery. He had allowed himself to be lenient with her, but it was absolutely out of the question to let her interfere in the slightest with his plans. As soon as he would have settled this incident in Gringotts, she would pay for making him waste his time this morning.

"What where they after?"

"It is not known my Lord," Bellatrix answered. "They didn't manage to get lower than the first levels."

"Where are they now?"

Bellatrix shifted nervously and Voldemort's fingers tightened on his wand.

"Bella, I do hope you are not going to tell me that they have managed to escape?"

But the witch's desperate face was proof enough that he was only surrounded by incompetent idiots. And for the second time today, he threw her a Cruciatus curse.

For a slight moment he had the nagging fear that he had extended his empire a little too far. Foreign countries had fallen under his rule one after another, and he had been forced to disperse his Death Eaters all around the Magical Alliance. When only Europe had been part of the Magical Alliance, nobody had dared to start a stupid rebellion. Nobody had dared to try to rob Gringotts.

Voldemort finally interrupted his curse and looked disdainfully at Bellatrix, who was struggling to catch her breath.

"Let's go to your vault Bella," he ordered.

The witch got up shakily and Voldemort cancelled the silencing spells around them. The bank hall was now completely empty, with the exception of two goblins who were watching them nervously. And they were right to be nervous. If Hufflepuff's Cup had disappeared from Bellatrix's vault, he would destroy all the building. Preferably with the goblins still inside it.

"The Lestrange Vault," Voldemort demanded.

Thankfully the two goblins did not make the mistake to try to ask him a proof of his identity.

oOoOoOo

Since the abrupt departure of the Dark Lord Hermione was nervously pacing in her living room. Her thoughts were twirling madly in her mind, mostly about this robbery in Gringotts. Was it the rebels? Had they managed to go away unscathed? Had they found what they were looking for?

Was it a Horcrux that they had wanted to recover in the wizarding bank? Had they destroyed it? The Dark Lord's reaction when Tyler had informed him that Gringotts had been robbed had been disturbing. Too much anger. Too much precipitation. He obviously was keeping something important in Gringotts, but it might just as well not be a Horcrux.

An insidious fear began to creep in Hermione's mind. If Voldemort was really keeping a Horcrux in Gringotts and the rebels had managed to steal it, there was no way he would not notice it. And it was even worse if the rebels had been caught. The tortured bodies of Harry and Ron flashed in Hermione's mind and she had to struggle to push them out of her immediate thoughts.

She did not have the time to build up hypothetical scenarios in her mind when there were far worse and much more immediate dangers to take into account. If anything had happened to a potential Horcrux in the bowels of the wizarding bank, Voldemort would come back to her with questions, ask her what she knew about it. And it would be a disaster. Severus Snape had warned her that her Occlumency wards would not hold against a targeted attack.

And she was there when Harry and Ron had brought the ring back. She had helped them find Slytherin's locket. And there was also Nagini and the diary, information she had passed on to Severus Snape. Her fear turned into panic. If the Dark Lord searched into her mind everything she knew regarding the Horcruxes, he would not only realize that the rebels were hunting his soul pieces, but he would also learn about Severus Snape's betrayal.

She needed to act now to free Fred, Padma and Susan and to try to destroy the diary and Nagini. And in the case this incident was indeed linked to Horcruxes, or even just to the rebels, she needed to be out of this castle by the time the Dark Lord returned.

Conscientiously Hermione redraw the runes that she had used to apply Morgana le Fay's theory. About fifteen minutes later she was back in touch with Slytherin Castle's magic.

oOoOoOo

Lord Voldemort had always loathed the mandatory journey in Gringotts' undergrounds. It was a clear waste of time. He had hesitated for a moment to simply carve his way straight through the walls with two or three hexes but he had finally maintained his calm demeanour. He did not want to rile up the entire Goblin nation without a good reason. There was enough of a mess in the United Kingdom currently without an umpteenth war with these creatures.

However, when the goblins began to shake their unbearable Clankers to make the dragon free the access to the Lestrange Vault, Voldemort thin patience came to an end and he casted a spell that crushed the huge beast to the ground, creating by the same occasion an impressive cloud of dust.

The goblins did not utter any protest – fortunately for them –, and one of them put his entire palm on the wooden door of the vault. The Lestrange Vault interior appeared in front of them, dripping with gold and various objects and artefacts, cluttered with decorations denoting the bad taste of the past and present generations of Lestrange. He spotted his Horcrux immediately, his magic oozing pleasantly from it, and he relaxed slightly. He did not know why the rebels had come to Gringotts - not for Hufflepuff's Cup it seemed - but he was not going to risk leaving it there.

"Bella," he ordered dryly.

Bellatrix jumped and rushed into the room. With a few expert wand movements she cancelled the multiple layers of wards inside the vault, before carefully levitating the cup into Lord Voldemort's hands. The next moment, this scene was erased from the goblins' memory.

oOoOoOo

Harry was slumped into one of the Hamlet's sofas, morose thoughts twirling in his mind. Bill's condition was still bad, and all the Weasley were busy trying to save him. Even Charlie had arrived a few minutes earlier, abandoning his Romanian dragons for his brother. Only Percy and Fred, although for different reasons, were missing.

All the other Weasley, as well as Sirius who had interacted extensively with Bill in the recent years, were currently in Molly and Arthur's room where the elder son was laid down, and Harry was nervously waiting for news in the living room. Neville was keeping him company, silently reading an old issue of the Daily Prophet that was lying on a table, and that he had already read at least a dozen times.

The fireplace suddenly lit up, and the two boys immediately took out their wands. But it was just Luna Lovegood, who emerged from the hearth with her usual dreamy look on her face.

"Hullo Harry, hullo Neville," she said softly.

"Hello Luna," Neville answered. "Are you OK?"

Luna looked at him with surprise.

"I'm OK Neville, thanks for asking" she said. "But the Wrackspurts had seemed quite troubled this morning, so I decided to come here. Something has happened, hasn't it?

Harry resisted the urge to point out that the Wrackspurts did not exist, and told her that Bill condition was critical. Luna shook her head sadly, her long pale hair flying around her.

"Do you mind if I stay with you?" she asked finally. "I have brought a game of Hapo to pass the time."

"Make yourself at home, Luna," Neville said.

Luna sat absently in one of the armchairs, and started pulling out strange coloured cards from her robe, as Neville and Harry sank back into silence. Harry realized that he was even more nervous than before. Luna might be particularly weird most of the time; but she had a sixth sense to feel that something important was going to happen.

oOoOoOo

Half an hour after having again activated Morgana le Fay's charms, Hermione was sprawled on the floor of her living room, completely demoralized, her body shaking with silent sobs. The Dark Lord had certainly done a good job when he had placed new wards on her door. She was not even able to identify the majority of them!

She was as likely to succeed in getting out of here as suddenly turning into a rainbow-coloured unicorn. Desperately, Hermione looked around her, hoping to find a solution. Any solution. She could not let the Dark Lord find anything about his Horcruxes in her mind. She could not betray the rebels, especially when Nagini and the diary were not yet destroyed.

Then an idea sprang into her mind. An incredibly dangerous idea. An idea that was giving her cold sweats, but she could not help but recognize its worth. If she was able to execute the spell correctly, it was even the perfect solution... Cautiously, Hermione accioed a parchment and a pen and wrote down few sentences. Then she put the parchment right in front of her on the floor.

Afterwards, despite her anguish, she brought her right hand next to her temple. She had decided to process her memories chronologically, and she forced herself to visualize with as much details as possible the day Harry and Ron had brought the Gaunt's ring back to Godric's Hollow.

"Obliviate," she whispered softly.

She erased all the memories that seemed important to her meticulously. There were things she could not afford to forget. Spells and curses. How to master wandless magic. The location of the room where Fred, Susan and Padma were kept. Morgana le Fay's theory.

She stopped suddenly, wondering what she was doing. Her gaze immediately fell on the parchment at her feet, which she scanned quickly.

Then Hermione gently put the parchment down, finding it very strange to see her own handwriting when she did not remember anything about writing down these words. But she had left herself instructions. A list of things she should not remember, and she already had no idea what they were for most of them. She did what was written, hoping that the Hermione of a few minutes ago knew what she was doing.

At last she burned the paper, and again approached her hand near her head. A few seconds later, she did not even remember having erased her own memory.

oOoOoOo

Voldemort gently placed Hufflepuff's Cup next to his old diary. He would need to quickly think of a better hiding place. He did not like the idea of having too many of his Horcruxes in the same place, and Nagini could also be found in Slytherin Castle. And the philosopher's stone. And Seth's amulet.

He absently twirled his white wand between his fingers. He did not like the current situation. He had the strange presentiment that the precarious balance he had built the past years had somehow shifted without him noticing it. That nothing was following anymore the path he had so carefully laid down. That he was missing a crucial piece of the puzzle. And it was not a pleasant feeling.

Yet everything seemed identical. He had the Philosopher's Stone, his diary, and Hufflepuff's Cup just under his eyes. He could feel Nagini sleeping by the fire in his own quarters. Slytherin's locket was safe in the cave. Ravenclaw's diadem was carefully hidden in Room of Hidden Things at Hogwarts. As for the Gaunt's ring, it was still in the ruins of his ancestors' house.

His wand abruptly stopped in his hand. The Gaunt's ring. The ring that his ignoble uncle had loved above all else. The ring which bore Peverell's coat of arms. A vertical line, a circle and a triangle surrounding them. The same symbol as Grindelwald's. Was it possible that the ring had always contained the resurrection stone without him knowing it? It would be quite ironical.

With a quick gesture Voldemort attracted to him the original edition of The Tales of Beedle the Bard he had recovered after Dumbledore's death. He quickly turned the pages before stopping on the tale of the three brothers. And there, above the title, was indeed the same symbol.

Sending back the book to his attributed place, Voldemort started to leave before stopping abruptly. The bad feeling he had had since he had returned to Slytherin Castle had not left him. Glancing at the bracelet that contained Seth's amulet, he decided that it was better not to risk waiting until the equinox to use it.

oOoOoOo

Hermione jumped when Lord Voldemort suddenly appeared in her living room late in the morning. She looked at him apprehensively, wondering why he was here. After all they had seen each other recently. Although she did not remember when exactly. Nor why. Hermione frowned, perplexed by this strange memory loss. Had the Dark Lord done something to her?

She started to kneel in front of him, but he did not let her the time to finish her movement, obviously in a hurry for an unknown reason that was highly suspicious.

"Come here," he ordered curtly.

However, he made most of the steps that separated them, and as soon as it was done he grabbed her left wrist. Right after he placed a white gold bracelet around it. When it closed, an intense light illuminated the room and a violent wind overturned most of the furniture, and books and parchments went flying all around them. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, everything became calm again.

"What's this?" Hermione asked with panic.

Voldemort did not answer, and she tried frantically to remove the bracelet from her wrist.

"Do not bother Hermione. This bracelet will only come off when it will have finished what it was made for. Or when I am dead, not that this could happen of course."

He Apparated away with these words and Hermione was left alone in the room. She looked cautiously at the bracelet on her wrist, turning it mechanically. Powerful magic was oozing from it, and she felt as though she had seen the bracelet somewhere, but she could not put her finger on where exactly.

oOoOoOo

Lord Voldemort Apparated directly to Little Hangleton, on the small path overlooking the village. The half-ruined Riddle mansion stood out clearly on the opposite hill, and he felt a certain satisfaction in remembering the murder of the last representatives of this despicable Muggle family. Murder even more enjoyable due to the fact that it had allowed him to get rid of his uncle at the same time.

With long strides, he went to the Gaunt's shack, and could not repress his disgust at the deplorable state of the house. At seeing this disgusting place were his ancestors had lived and died. Then he noticed that the protective spells he had placed on the house were no longer active.

The fury that rose in him at this discovery almost blew up what was left of the house. But he needed to know. He needed to be sure. He needed to see with his own eyes what had happened. He entered the shack, and he immediately spotted the hole in the mouldy floor, as well as the empty golden box next to it.

Infused with the intensity of his anger his magic ravaged everything within a hundred and fifty meters of him, disintegrating both the house and the vegetation around. Who had come here? How could they have known about his Horcruxes? Or was it because of the Deathly Hallows that the Gaunt's house had been robbed?

And above all, where was his ring now?

oOoOoOo

Luna was humming a sad melody when footsteps were heard going down the stairs. A moment after Ginny emerged, eyes reddened, and Luna rose to hug her.

"Hello Luna," Ginny said with a slightly shaking voice.

"How's Bill?" Harry asked, also getting up from the sofa.

"For the moment, he's still alive," Ginny answered darkly. "But without a healer we are not sure that he'll survive the night."

Harry felt his heart squeeze and he sent her a sorry look, not daring to hug her by fear to be rejected.

"Do you want to play a Hapo game with me?" Luna suggested. "It brings back luck."

But Ginny nodded from left to right, and sat down next to Harry.

"What are the next steps now?" she asked him.

"The next steps?" Harry repeated uncertainly.

"The next steps," Ginny confirmed firmly. "If we don't move ahead, it will be even worse."

oOoOoOo

Just half an hour had passed when Lord Voldemort reappeared in Hermione's living room. The girl raised her head as she felt him, and her questioning gaze quickly turned into a fearful one when she noticed the anger that oozed from him in waves.

He was on her in the blink of an eye, and, catching her hair, he pulled her head sharply backwards to meet her eyes.

"Legilimens."

He sought the Horcruxes in the Mudblood's mind with a ferocity that was probably very painful for her.

Nothing.

He searched for the Gaunt's ring. The Gaunt's house. A gold ring set with a black stone.

Nothing.

He searched for the Deathly Hallows. The tale of the three brothers. The elder wand, the resurrection stone, and the invisibility cloak.

Nothing but that stupid Potter and his cloak.

He came out of her mind brutally and the Mudblood staggered.

"Crucio!"

She fell to the ground and thrashed violently, screaming loudly, and bumping ungracefully into the furniture. He counted slowly in his head. For a long time. Before releasing his spell and kneeling beside her.

"Tell me why the rebels have tried to rob Gringotts," he ordered.

"Gringotts?" she asked weakly.

"The wizarding bank. Tell. Me. Why."

She gave him a strangely empty look, before she managed to put her thoughts in order.

"I don't know," she replied with difficulty.

"Crucio!"

Again she screamed and he increased the intensity of his spell. The time he was losing with her was the time he could not spend looking for his Horcruxe.

"Legilimens!"

This time he forced her memories to show up more easily; her mind weakened by the violence of his Cruciatus curses. He looked back to the time she had spent with the rebels. And then, he noticed them. Blanks. Bits of days that were missing. Conversations that stopped abruptly in her memories.

He let out a roar of rage. She had erased her memories. And recently since he could find blanks in her morning occupations. She had dared to hide something from him.

"Crucio!" he casted again.

What had she tried to hide? She literally had a quarter of her entire memory cleaned from April until today. He should not have been content with rummaging through her thoughts when he had managed to get her back. He should have tortured her like everyone else. To make her agonize at his feet as it was now the case.

Then Voldemort stopped his Cruciatus, forcibly raised her, and plunged even more violently into her memories, looking for the flaws in her spell. She should have blotched the first few spells, especially without a wand, and if there were even bits of remaining memories in her mind he would be able to unveil them. He felt her struggling weakly against him but he did not pay attention. He ravaged her memory until finally perceiving some traces. The Gaunt's ring in her hand. A living room. Godric's Hollow.

At the height of his fury, he dropped Hermione's amorphous body on the ground and pointed his wand at her, ready to throw her an Avada Kedavra for daring to hide things from him. For daring to erase her own memory. He was going to kill her, and then he would go to Godric's Hollow.

His gaze fell on the bracelet that shone on her wrist and he finally destroyed the furniture to vent his anger. He did not need another disaster now. The Mudblood would still be very useful to him. He would need to have her supervised in his absence, in case another silly idea of the same kind passed through her mind. Bellatrix was out of the question. He was suspicious of Tyler now. Lucius was already dealing with some important issues in Eastern Europe. Only Severus was left.

oOoOoOo

When Severus Snape felt his dark mark burn violently, he immediately turned around and went back to the headmaster's office, even if he had just returned to the castle. The intensity of the pain was abnormally high, and he ran up the stairs to get out of Hogwarts. Every second lost was an additional chance to upset the Dark Lord, and his mood seemed already atrocious.

As soon as he entered his office, he rushed to the fireplace, quickly enunciating his destination, Slytherin Castle. Once at the castle he realized with dread that his dark mark allowed him to Apparate within the castle, a fact rare enough to be frightening.

He Apparated without further delay, guided by the dark mark. The first thing he noticed was the Dark Lord's awful mood. Much worse than when he and Tyler had announced the Gringotts' incident a little earlier. Much worse than when Hermione Granger had escaped last March. Without losing another moment, Severus Snape knelt down obediently.

"How may I help you, my Lord?" he asked.

Out of the corner of his eyes he noticed Hermione Granger's apathetic form on the floor and a shudder of fear ran through him, even though his face remained neutral.

"I want you to watch this stupid witch in my absence Severus," the Dark Lord ordered. "Do not leave her out of your sight for the slightest moment. I want her alive when I return. Am I clear?"

"Yes, my Lord," he agreed.

The Dark Lord immediately disappeared, and after casting several discretion spells just in case Severus Snape cautiously approached Hermione Granger. Prolonged Cruciatus, he concluded, noticing the sporadic jolts shaking her body. He knelt beside her and brought a vial of potion to her lips, but she turned her head away, her eyes completely frantic.

"Don't be stupid, Miss Granger," he said irritably. "Drink it and tell me what's going on."

But Hermione Granger continued to look at him in dismay, and she even tried to draw away from him.

"I won't tell you anything," she said in a broken voice.

Her eyes reflected her distrust and it disturbed Severus more than her words. Without waiting he plunged into her mind, trying to understand what might have made her so mistrustful of him. It took him several long minutes to understand, and then he felt a touch of admiration for the girl. It was surely the cause of the Dark Lord anger.

"Miss Granger, are you aware that you have erased your own memory?"

She shook her head in denial, but he could see that the idea seemed plausible to her.

"Drink," he said, handing her the vial again. "Or I'll make you."

She did so under his piercing gaze. In a few minutes, the potion should calm down her nervous system.

"Among the memories you've erased," he said next. "There is my own membership in the rebellion Miss Granger."

"You're lying," she answered weakly.

"I am not."

Her gaze was no less suspicious.

"Prove it," she demanded.

"When you escaped from the Dark Lord's grip and met the resistance, you have asked Potter to protect your parents. I hid them, the night before the Dark Lord destroyed their house. And I asked Potter to tell you that they were now safe in the United States."

She looked at him suspiciously before nodding weakly.

"Do you know what the Dark Lord was looking for in your memories?"

"It's pretty confused," she said after a moment. "Information about Harry. Godric's Hollow. A ring with a black stone set on it."

"The Horcrux?" he asked.

But Hermione looked at him with incomprehension, which then turned into frustration.

"I don't know what's a Horcrux," she said angrily.

Severus Snape let out a relived sigh. She had also erased that from her memory. It was a miracle that she was still able to think straight after such an extensive spell. But if the Dark Lord had seen the ring anyway...

He concentrated on his memories, and made a more or less look alike replica of the object appear in front of her.

"This ring?" he asked, showing it to Hermione.

She nodded slowly.

"He saw that it was at Godric's Hollow," she added.

"So he'll know soon," Severus Snape muttered fatally.

"Know what?" Hermione Granger asked with a hint of exasperation.

Although she was not able to move, her face still reflected a certain determination.

"What you've forgotten, Miss Granger," Severus Snape began, "is that the Dark Lord has hidden his soul in several objects, creating what is called Horcruxes. As long as they exist, he cannot be killed. Potter, Weasley, Minerva, Remus and you have destroyed the soul fragment that was in the ring, as well as the one in Slytherin's locket. You had let me know yourself that there were two more Horcruxes here, the Dark Lord's serpent, Nagini, and a diary in a hidden room next to the Dark Lord's study. Those are still intact to my knowledge."

Hermione Granger stayed silent for a moment.

"If he finds the ring," she said thoughtfully, "he will immediately understand that the rebels are hunting his Horcruxes, won't he? And he will soon increase the protection around the remaining ones."

"Indeed."

Hermione closed her eyes, and Severus Snape thought she had finally passed out, but she finally got up despite the pain she was surely feeling.

"Then we must act now," she said.

oOoOoOo

 **AN:** See you next week!


	29. Chapter 29

Hi everyone,

Thank you so much for all the reviews! I'm always looking forward for them :)

I hope you'll like this new chapter.

Have a nice day,

Perhentian

oOoOoOo

 **Chapter 29 - September 1999**

 _Hermione closed her eyes, and Severus Snape thought she had finally passed out, but she finally got up despite the pain she was surely feeling._

 _"Then we must act now," she said._

"You're barely standing," Severus Snape pointed out dryly.

Hermione did not answer right away; too busy trying to stay on her two feet despite the pain still running through her body.

"Don't you have something that could help me?" she asked just as curtly.

Severus Snape reluctantly pulled out another vial from his robes and handed it over to her. Still leaning on the wall not to fall, Hermione uncorked the vial with shaking hands, and cautiously sniffed the potion.

"Pepper-Up?" she recognized, surprised.

"The simplest potions are sometimes the most effective ones."

Without further ado Hermione quickly swallowed the contents of the vial. She felt her ears smoke, and right afterwards a pleasant heat spread through her whole body and her thoughts became clearer.

"Well, we must destroy the Horcruxes that are in the castle. The diary should be less aggressive than Nagini, let's start with it."

"Do you at least know how to get into that hidden room you told me about?" Snape asked acidly.

Hermione paused for a moment, but decided not to dwell on the obvious bad will of the Hogwarts headmaster.

"I guess so," she said finally. "Even if it seems that I have forgotten where the Dark Lord's study is."

These gaps in her memory frustrated her to no-end now that she knew about them. Relegating her personal concerns aside, she staggered towards the door. Surprisingly, she felt Severus Snape's arm slid under hers to support her.

"I'll guide you, otherwise you'll drop dead in the middle of the hallway," he said angrily.

"Thank you," Hermione whispered with relief.

oOoOoOo

"You're expedition to Gringotts wasn't successful, was it?" Ginny asked.

"It wasn't," Harry confirmed irritably.

He had not told anything about Horcruxes to Ginny, not wanting to put the young woman in more danger than she already was, but the members of the Order of the Phoenix knew that Minerva, Remus, Ron and himself were looking for something. And Ginny had joined the Order of the Phoenix as soon as she had finished Hogwarts, not letting anyone deter her about it.

"What are you looking for?" Luna asked in an airy tone.

"What are you talking about?"

Harry turned to face Ron, who had just appeared at the bottom of the stairs. He looked tired and depressed at the same time, and Harry felt a painful twinge in his heart seeing his best friend so dejected.

"Next steps," Ginny answered with determination.

"What?" Ron hissed. "Have you spilt all our secrets to them Harry?"

Ron's gaze was clearly accusing.

"No, not at all!" Harry answered hastily, raising his hands in front of him.

"But Ginny's right," Neville interjected. "Your trip to Gringotts certainly didn't go unnoticed. Won't the Dark Lord understand what you were looking for?"

Harry and Ron exchanged a worried look.

"If there really was something, he would have moved it away immediately..." Ron whispered.

"We left Gringotts several hours ago, it's probably already done," Harry said fatally.

If the Dark Lord had realized that they were hunting his Horcruxes, and had protected all the remaining ones, it was over for them…

"Do you know where he could have moved it?" Ginny asked.

Harry and Ron exchanged another look.

"Potentially at Slytherin Castle," Harry finally said.

Ginny, Luna, and Neville winced at his answer. They had no way to enter the Dark Lord's headquarters.

"But you were looking for several objects, weren't you?" Neville said. "Are there others we could put our hands on?"

"We don't know how many there are in total, and we have no idea where they can be. Or what they could be," Harry said curtly.

It was meant as a categorical refusal of their help, and Ginny looked angrily at him, understanding perfectly what he was trying to do.

"They could help us Harry," Ron pointed out, surprising Harry. "It could do us some good to have new opinions."

"They will be in great danger if we share theses information with them," Harry protested.

"We're already in great danger," Ginny countered forcefully. "And if _he_ already knows what you are looking for it doesn't make any difference, he will kill all the rebels anyway!"

"He may not know yet," Harry said moodily.

Ron looked at him with exasperation and Harry sighed. He really did not like the idea of having Ginny involved in the Horcruxes hunt. But he knew that when the girl had an idea in her mind, she would not abandon until she obtained was she wanted.

"Okay, alright!" he capitulated. "We're looking for objects belonging to the Dark Lord. We do not know which ones. Neither how many they are. Nor where they are hidden."

He strongly hoped to discourage his friends by his pessimistic presentation.

"Which ones have you already found?" Neville asked anyway.

"A yellow gold ring set with a black stone. A locket that had belonged to Salazar Slytherin. What we were looking for in Gringotts was Hufflepuff's Cup," Ron explained.

"Hufflepuff's Cup?" Ginny wondered. "Why Hufflepuff?"

Harry shrugged. He had no idea about what could have motivated the Dark Lord to choose these specific objects after all.

oOoOoOo

"And what are we supposed to do now?" Severus Snape asked impatiently.

They were standing in front of the painting guarding the Dark Lord's study, and the snake had of course not reacted to Severus Snape's request to let them in. Hermione was trying hard to remember how she might have known about the hidden room, but her own memory was no longer cooperating with her.

Distractedly, she turned the white gold bracelet around her wrist. Had she gone to this room with the Dark Lord? It seemed unlikely to her. But if she had come alone, how could she have deceived the painting guarding the study's doors?

"I may have an idea, but I'll need your wand," Hermione said.

She was not one hundred percent certain, but it was probably something linked to Morgana le Fay's theory. After all, why else would she have taken the risk of leaving this knowledge in her memory when it would have made the Dark Lord quite angry if he had found about it?

"No way," Snape answered. "Tell me what to do."

"You can't do it," Hermione retorted. "And if you don't want to give me your wand, find me another one."

"I know where the prisoners' wands are kept, but only the Dark Lord can access them," Severus Snape provided.

Hermione swore and then glared at Severus Snape. A glare he ignored regally.

"Very well, in this case help me draw the runic cir..." she started before stopping abruptly.

"Miss Granger?"

"I don't remember all the runes," she said with panic. "And there is no time to try to recalculate them again. Give me your wand then."

The two stared at each other for a moment before Severus Snape gave in and reluctantly held out his wand. Hermione grabbed it greedily. She hesitated for a moment to send a Stupefy to Severus Snape, but finally decided not to. He would not have been there with her if he was not really on the rebels' side.

Quickly she performed Morgana le Fay's charms. And once again, she was in touch with the Dark Lord's castle's magic. A smile spread across her face. She had been right. She had used Morgana le Fay's to get there the previous time. She made a simple gesture towards the painting, and the study doors opened with deference.

Severus Snape was clearly surprised, and Hermione almost wanted to laugh at the thought of having made the always so perfectly composed Hogwarts headmaster lose his legendary impassiveness. She entered the study and walked slowly, though without hesitation, towards the wall concealing the hidden room, and a few moments later they were inside.

"Awesome," Severus Snape commented sarcastically in front of the empty room.

Hermione glared at him and focused on the needed enchantments. Before uttering an annoyed growl.

"Could you cast some revealing charms? I cannot remember their formula," she said, giving the wand back to Severus Snape.

He paused for a moment before casting several of them. The contents of the room appeared slowly before them, and Hermione was relieved to notice that it was indeed the correct place. In addition to the strange sensations of déjà-vu that she felt, she could sense on the other side of the room two objects that distinctly bore the Dark Lord's magical signature. A diary and a cup, placed on a small chest of drawers.

"Are those Horcruxes?" Hermione asked.

"That's indeed the diary I have seen in your mind," Snape confirmed. "And if I'm not mistaken, this should be Hufflepuff's Cup."

They approached the alcove, and Hermione noticed that they were quite strangely disposed, the cup oddly placed behind the diary.

"The arrangement is strange," she murmured.

Severus Snape leaned over to look at what she was pointing to.

"There is a pentacle drawn in the wood," he said. "The objects are at the top."

Hermione also leaned in and finally noticed the almost invisible lines.

"Five objects," she said. "Plus Nagini. This is seven soul parts including the one that remains in his body."

She glanced around her, at the heptagonal room.

"Seven is a highly magical figure," Severus Snape agreed.

"And that means we only need to find one more Horcrux," Hermione added excitedly.

Severus Snape looked at her with contempt in front of her childish enthusiasm, and pointed to the diary and the cup, while handing his wand to her again.

"Get them," he said. "We have to leave Slytherin Castle before the Dark Lord comes back."

"I can't," Hermione said, her good mood instantly disappearing. "There are strong protections on it. It will take me a lot of time to get them, and it may be better to first release Fred, Susan and Padma."

"Fred, Susan and Padma ? They are alive?" Snape asked. "Why haven't you told me this earlier? It's been weeks since everyone is convinced they're dead."

"I thought you knew," Hermione answered calmly. "Let's grab their wands on the way."

Severus Snape glared at her, but she just shrugged. He could try all he wanted to look angrily at her; he would never get close to the Dark Lord's level of terror.

"And could you give me another Pepper-Up? I'm feeling exhausted again."

oOoOoOo

Voldemort looked with rage at Potter Manor. The manor Bellatrix' teams should have searched thoroughly in the beginning of August. He had even been presented an inventory of everything that had been found there. And he remembered perfectly not to have seen anything mentioning a ring set with a black stone. Either his Death Eaters had been incompetent enough not to find the ring, or someone had stolen it.

An earthquake shook Godric's Hollow's village at the fury this simple idea ignited in him. If they had dared... Voldemort tightened his hold on his wand and entered the manor as if the protections posed by the Death Eaters were non-existent. The hall seemed intact, even though it was completely empty.

Without moving further, Voldemort magically scanned the mansion. None of the few magical emanations still present bore his signature. It was a very bad news. Dryly, Voldemort swapped the yew wand for the elder one. If the Gaunt's ring was indeed the famous resurrection stone, it should respond more favourably to the elder wand.

oOoOoOo

Fred Weasley, Susan Bones and Padma Patil were all sitting on Fred's bed, talking softly to each other. It had been more than a month since their capture, and since then they had been kept idle at the Dark Lord's Castle. Why? They had no idea. After the awful first days when all three had revealed absolutely everything they knew, they had been brought by the Dark Lord himself to this small room.

It was barely big enough to hold three beds, a wobbly table and chairs, but it was far better than a dungeon. During this month, no one had visited them, except for a house elf that brought them just enough food not to starve. A situation that never ceased to intrigue them, but over which they had no control.

Having absolutely nothing else to do, they had spent their time teaching each other all the spells they knew, practicing the wand movements even without having one, hoping that it could help them one day.

Fred was explaining in a passionate speech how he had developed with George the explosive fireworks that had so often been used as a diversion when Susan, the only one seeing the whole room from her position, froze completely, terror visible on her face.

Fred and Padma turned around quickly and immediately understood Susan's reaction. A few feet from them stood Severus Snape, his face as cold as usual. The Headmaster of Hogwarts that they had feared for years, and who had shown absolutely no emotion when they had been tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange and Lord Voldemort. Fred got up immediately and positioned himself between the Death Eater and the two girls.

"Edifying Frederick," Severus Snape said drily. "Do you really think you can shield these two girls with your body?"

"Is this really the right moment?" a dry voice intervened.

Right after, Hermione Granger emerged from behind Severus Snape, and she smiled as she saw them. The faces of Fred, Susan and Padma reflected their surprise, and then suspicion.

"Hermione?" Fred asked uncertainly.

She did not answer him, rummaging in the pockets of her robe, before pulling out three wands that she handed them.

"What's going on Hermione?" Padma asked while grabbing her wand with barely suppressed joy.

"We're getting you out of here," Hermione said succinctly. "I'm really happy to see that you are well."

Then she turned to Severus Snape.

"Would you mind getting them out of here alone?" she asked. "Now that I have my wand I would better go back to take care of... what you know."

"Pardon me?" Fred exclaimed.

Did she really mean that Severus Snape, one of the Dark Lord's inner circle Death Eaters, was going to help them escape?

"I'll see them out," Severus Snape replied Hermione, not paying attention to Fred. "And anyway, I need to warn the rebels of the latest events."

"How will we find each other again?" Hermione asked.

"Patronus. And in case of emergency, let me share with you how to get to the Hamlet."

Fred watched them exchange a long look, then Hermione nodded with satisfaction before turning on her heels and walking away.

"Do not get caught," Severus Snape said in a tone that had terrified generations of students.

Hermione simply winked at him.

oOoOoOo

"Perhaps he wanted to honour the four founders?" Neville suggested.

"Rather prove that he was better than them," Ron commented.

"In his dreams," Harry said acidly.

But Ginny was looking at Neville as if he had just said something very important.

"What if he had really sought out an object belonging to each of the founders?" she asked.

"The ring doesn't belong to any of the founders," Ron pointed out.

"But it's a family heirloom, isn't it?" Neville said. "It doesn't really fall into the same category."

"That would mean that he also has a Gryffindor object, and a Ravenclaw one," Ginny said.

"For Gryffindor, that may be the hat or the sword," Harry suggested. "But both are at Hogwarts."

And entering Hogwarts was almost as dangerous as entering Slytherin Castle, especially without Severus Snape.

"And for Ravenclaw?" Neville wondered.

None of them had any idea until Luna spoke.

"Well, there's her lost diadem."

At the same moment the Hamlet's alarms went off, signalling the arrival of four unregistered people in the garden. The five young friends got up quickly, and Harry pointed his wand at the window, his heart beating wildly. But when he registered who had destroyed the wards, it left him perplexed, even if slightly less worried.

"Snape!" Neville noticed with terror.

"Fred!" Ginny said at the same time.

"And Susan! And Padma!"

Harry rushed outside, his friends on his heels. At the door they ran into Molly and Arthur Weasley, as well as Sirius, all three having their wands drawn. They all went out at the same time in the little garden.

"Snivellus go away immediately!" Sirius roared.

"Let them go!" Molly Weasley ordered at the same time.

"Everything's fine, calm..."

But a curse was already on Sirius' lips and Harry threw himself between them, wondering how bad is luck was to be stuck between Sirius and Snape.

"Stop!" he shouted.

His wand produced an impressive sound and all eyes turned to him.

"Snape, what's going on?" he asked.

The amazement was visible amongst the people around them.

"He knows," Snape answered. "He's on his way to retrieve the ring in Godric's Hollow."

oOoOoOo

Lord Voldemort felt his hand shake with suppressed rage. In front of him was a ripped open chest, and the Gaunt's ring was lain in the middle of it. Dispossessed of his Horcrux. Void of his soul piece. With a wave of his hand he Accio-ed it. On the stone the Deathly Hallows' symbol was perfectly recognizable, but it did nothing to appease his anger.

oOoOoOo

Hermione was casting a series of spells in Voldemort's hidden room, her own wand singing in the palm of her hand. All her attention was focused on the thin barrier in front of the two Horcruxes. She was exhausted, and sweat beaded on her forehead due to the draining utilization of her magic. She had not triggered any alarm, but she had not succeeded in recovering the Horcruxes either. The magic in front of her was too complex, a little too far above her own capabilities for her to succeed.

oOoOoOo

The Hamlet living room was packed. The Weasley, Sirius, Harry, Neville, Luna, Susan, Padma, Minerva, Remus, Kingsley, and Tonks, the last three having arrived right after the alarm was triggered. And of course Severus Snape. Everyone was talking at the same time, wasting time in assumptions and conjectures, without anything happening. While the situation had never been so critical. And worse, Harry was right next to Snape and Sirius who were acting like they were fifteen again.

"So, Snivellus, are you still enjoying being the Dark Lord's bitch?" Sirius taunted.

"And here I had thought that Bella had been able to finish your miserable life…" Snape hissed.

"Silence!" Harry finally yelled, his voice magically amplified.

Once again all eyes turned to him.

"Harry!" Minerva McGonagall said indignantly.

But Harry could not stay idle. It was an absolute necessity to act now. And quickly.

"If Snape's correct, we only have one item left to find. Ginny, Luna, Neville, Ron and I think it might be the Gryffindor sword, or the Sorting Hat. We must enter Hogwarts."

"What?" Tonks shouted.

"Out of the question!" Molly Weasley reacted immediately.

The voices of all rose again in the living room, slightly more heated than before. Harry sighed, but his friends gathered around him, along with Fred and George.

"Hey Harry! Fred and I should be able to help you get into Hogwarts," Fred said.

"Really?" Harry wondered. "I thought all the secret passages had been sealed off?"

"We may now have an explosive powder that should clear them," George shrugged.

"All right," Ron agreed. "Let's the four of us go then."

"No way!" Ginny said. "You will not leave me behind."

"And me neither," Neville said. "And if it's finally something that belonged to Ravenclaw, you'll also need Luna and Padma."

"I should be able to guide you Potter," Snape interjected drily. "I do not think any of you have ever been to the Headmaster's office."

Ron turned to him.

"No, you have to go back to Slytherin Castle. You're the only one that can help Hermione, and she must not fail."

"I could guide you in Hogwarts then," Minerva McGonagall said.

Snape nodded dryly, and Harry was relieved to know that Hermione would soon have some help with everything that can happen in the Dark Lord's castle.

"The kids are not going to Hogwarts alone!" Molly said.

"The more we are, the less stealthy we'll be," Harry answered immediately.

"But we can protect you, and organize diversions if needed," Remus offered in his calm voice.

Harry had nothing to say against that.

"We still need someone to stay here," Arthur said. "For Bill."

"I'll handle it," Susan said.

Susan having studied to become a healer before their retreat in the beginning of August all agreed.

oOoOoOo

Hermione was progressing cautiously in hallways she had never been in before. She had the unpleasant suspicion that she was getting closer and closer to Lord Voldemort's personal quarters, and that it was inside them that Nagini's aura was leading her.

The cup and the diary were secured in one of her pockets. She ended up tricking the charms by using a very simple Muggle solution to get the Horcruxes, passing a simple stick across the barrier without triggering anything, and pulling the two objects out with it. It was so primitive that she had even laughed nervously when it had worked.

Turning into a new corridor, she accelerated her pace, her wand held tight in her hand. Despite her determination, she was not one hundred percent certain of getting out of a fight against Nagini alive. The snake had always terrified her.

She was only a few feet from her destination when all of a sudden, Nagini's aura disappeared from Slytherin Castle, and Hermione stopped dead in her tracks.

oOoOoOo

Harry cautiously followed Fred and George into the Shrieking Shack's secret passageway. The twins were projecting in front of them a violet powder that made the rocks inside the passageway disappear, in spite of all the enchantments that were supposed not to allow it.

"How did you manage to develop this powder?" Harry asked with admiration.

He knew that Fred and George had spent many hours trying to clear one of Hogwarts secret passageway when they were students, to no avail.

"With a lot of genius," Fred answered.

"By sheer dumb luck then," Ron commented, just behind them.

"That's exactly what Gred has just said," George said.

They continued to progress until they reached the roots of the Whomping Willow, and the whole group stopped. It was Sunday afternoon, and the castle park was usually filled with students enjoying the last bits of warn weather before fall.

"What are the next steps?" George asked.

Harry put on his invisibility cloak, and looked out.

"There are several groups of students not far from the Whomping Willow."

"Let me take care of this."

Minerva McGonagall slipped to the front of the bowel. She murmured a spell, and several stones changed into rats. Then she spelled the rats to go outside. Quickly several screams were heard, followed by hurried footsteps.

"The immediate surroundings are clear," Harry announced. "Professor McGonagall, what is the best way to get in?"

"There is a shortcut behind the greenhouses. I'll take you there."

"Perfect."

His voice did not waver, but Harry felt his heart beating faster. Soon they would be inside the castle.

oOoOoOo

Voldemort landed softly on the wet stones inside the cave, Nagini at his side. He had summoned his snake back to him after seeing the state of his ring. If his diary and the cup were out of reach of ordinary mortals, his pet could wander around Slytherin Castle as she wished, and who knows if one of his low-ranked Death Eaters was finally not a spy ?

With a quick movement of his wand, Voldemort made a small cut on the palm of his hand, and pressed it on the black stone wall. The interior of the cavern was immediately revealed before him, its walls magically illuminated by a dull light. Once again the place was lacking the characteristic emanation his Horcrux should have been emanating.

Without wasting time, he crossed the lake in front of him as if it was a solid surface, the Inferi avoiding his threatening presence. In a few seconds he had reached the middle of the lake, and the pedestal filled with his own potion. He executed a series of complex movements with his wand, until the basin was empty.

Empty of the potion, but also empty of his Horcrux.

oOoOoOo

They moved slowly through the hallways, leaded by McGonagall, gradually climbing up the stairs, slowly getting closer to the Headmaster's office. Kingsley, Tonks, Remus and Sirius were doing their best to detect the presence of students and teachers in the corridors, but their luck eventually ran out.

At the corner of a corridor, Rabastan Lestrange and Barty Crouch Junior emerged suddenly just behind the rebels, and they immediately noticed the presence of disillusioned wizards.

"Reveal yourself!" Rabastan Lestrange demanded, pointing his wand at them.

Immediately, a dozen spells sprang from the rebels' wands. Barty Crouch was the quicker of the two, managing to cast a curse before collapsing on the floor. It was Ginny who was hit on her left arm, and she uttered a heart-wrenching scream. Immediately, Molly and Charlie were on her, and both started casting diagnostic spells.

"You need to continue!" Charlie said. "We'll try to find Pomfrey and we'll join you later."

oOoOoOo

Hermione went back with hastened steps. If she wanted to destroy at least the diary and the cup, she would need a place that can contain a Fiendfyre, and she knew only one. The duelling room. She was only a few feet away when she saw a silvery, doe-shaped patronus coming in her direction.

"Give me your location," the doe asked with Severus Snape's voice.

"The duelling room," she answered.

The doe tilted her head slightly and darted back towards her owner. In the meantime Hermione walked the last steps to the duelling room, and quickly entered it. She put the diary and Hufflepuff's Cup on the floor, and looked at the two objects for a moment. They were pulsating with magic, and she knew that she would have to use a very powerful Fiendfyre if she wanted to destroy them. She was just hoping that she would have the strength to master what she was going to unleash. Absentmindedly, she toyed with the bracelet around her wrist.

"Ignis Daemoniorum!" Hermione casted.

The flames rushed forward, creating terrifying chimeras. A first chimera attacked the diary, but it was the chimera that was disintegrated when the diary emitted a suffocating black smoke. Hermione increased the intensity of her spell, and the temperature of the duelling room escalated, becoming hard to bear.

The flames surrounded the two Horcruxes, and the resulting noises froze Hermione's blood. The objects were struggling. Fighting against the fire. Fighting against her magic. Whistles that she recognized as Parseltongue rose, and their violence almost made her let go of her wand and flee far far away. Instead, she tightened her hold and further intensified her spell. A tongue of fire licked the bottom of her robe, making it flare up, but she paid it no attention, all her senses focused on the Horcruxes.

"Get out of here you idiotic witch!" Snape's voice echoed right behind her.

"No, not yet!" she whispered.

She felt a shield of ice rise between her and the fire, just in time to prevent her hair from igniting violently. Finally, the Dark Lord's signature disappeared, and she let Severus Snape drag her out of the room.

"Have you succeeded?" he asked.

The duelling room door was securely closed, and they both knew it would take several hours for the Fiendfyre to die by itself.

"The diary and the cup are destroyed, but not Nagini. She's no longer in the castle. What are the rebels doing?"

"They are at Hogwarts. Come with me, one of Slytherin Castle's chimneys is connected to the Headmaster's office in Hogwarts."

oOoOoOo

When Voldemort exited the cave, he was more furious than he had been for a very long time. The Gaunt's ring was no longer a Horcrux. Slytherin's Locket was gone. And if the diary and cup were safe in his castle, he needed to check that his diadem was still at Hogwarts.

oOoOoOo

It had only been a few seconds since Severus Snape and Hermione had emerged in the Headmaster's office when the front door opened, letting several disillusioned silhouettes enter. Most cancelled their spells when they noticed them, and Hermione smiled tiredly.

"You're almost late," Severus Snape said irritably.

But Harry and Ron were already on Hermione, hugging her, screaming at her half-burned dress, and she realized it had been a long time since she had felt so safe, so secure. Then she felt a distant change in the atmosphere around her, and she froze.

" _He_ 's here," she announced.

oOoOoOo

 **AN:** See you in two weeks!


	30. Chapter 30

Hi everyone,

Thank you very much for all the reviews!

Two chapters left for this story (+ the epilogue): I hope you will enjoy the ride until the very end :)

Have a nice day,

Perhentian

oOoOoOo

 **Chapter 30 - September 1999**

 _But Harry and Ron were already on Hermione, hugging her, screaming at her half-burned dress, and she realized it had been a long time since she had felt so safe, so secure. Then she felt a distant change in the atmosphere around her, and she froze._

 _"_ He _'s here," she announced._

Harry and Ron immediately let go of her and looked around for the threat, their wands in their hands.

"He's at the park's gates," Hermione supplied.

It did not really help to appease the tension in the room.

"Snape, where are Gryffindor's sword and the Sorting Hat?" Harry asked hastily.

"Inside the cabinet on your right Potter," Severus Snape answered, uttering the last name scornfully.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione rushed to the cabinet, as Minerva McGonagall approached Severus Snape.

"We need to warn the students Severus," the former deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts said, her tone filled with concern. "You should tell them to evacuate."

Harry quickly opened the cabinet doors, revealing several shelves overloaded with strange objects, and Hermione scanned them.

"Evacuate how Minerva? The only chimney linked to the Floo Network is this one, and you can only reach Slytherin Castle from there. Even if we manage to reorient it, it would take us hours to evacuate everyone. And we cannot supervise the students, our presence will endanger them."

The objects were disrespectfully stacked one upon another on the shelves and Hermione stifled an indignant cry when she noticed a compass that was completely crushed by what appeared to be a mere lead cube.

"Then you have to tell them to go back to their common rooms Severus. And to stay inside at all cost."

Harry and Ron moved closer to the shelves, gently pushing Hermione aside.

"The sword's here," Ron said, carefully taking the object out and putting it on Severus Snape's desk.

"And I have the hat!" Harry completed, pulling a crumpled piece of cloth from under a globe.

Hermione stared at the old, worn-out hat that Harry now held in his hands. It was certainly surrounded by powerful magic, but its appearance was singularly lacking in grandeur for such an important artefact.

"All students please pay attention!" Severus Snape's magically amplified voice suddenly echoed, startling the three friends.

His voice seemed to come from the walls rather than from his mouth, and Hermione realized that it had to be broadcasted to the whole castle.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, pointing at the sword and the hat.

"This is a message from your Headmaster," Severus Snape continued. "You shall all return immediately to your common rooms. Immediately. Every offender exposes himself to a serious danger."

The urgency in the Headmaster's tone made Hermione shudder, and she froze for a moment. Then she focused again on the objects in front of her.

"No," she answered, shaking her head. "Neither is a Horcrux."

When she looked at the rebels she felt her heart sank. All she could see on their faces was disappointed stupor, horror, and defeated resignation. They had come here for nothing. This risky expedition had been for nothing. And now the Dark Lord himself was after them.

"We should retreat before it's too late," Remus Lupin said.

"But if the Dark Lord's here, doesn't that prove that whatever it is, the Horcrux is inside Hogwarts?" Padma pointed out.

oOoOoOo

Lord Voldemort was standing right in front of the gates guarding the entrance to Hogwarts park. Despite everything he was able to do; Apparating inside Hogwarts was still out of his reach. The founder's magic definitely was an incredible one… But he would still be in Room of Hidden Things in no time.

However he quickly noticed that there was something amiss. And for once it was not a lack of magical auras. He could not clearly identify each individual in all the magic flowing through the castle, between the auras of unknown students, those of the teachers and the one of the castle itself. But there was a magical signature that was unmistakable.

With an imperious gesture Voldemort ordered the gates to open, and they did so reluctantly, grinding all the way. Ever since he had overthrown the previous government, Hogwarts has been subtly antagonizing him, even if the castle could not outright oppose him. It had hurt in the beginning to notice this reluctance to obey him, more than he would freely admit, but he had ended up blaming it on Godric Gryffindor and his laquais, who had probably biased the castle's judgement after the departure of his ancestor.

When he crossed the invisible limit marking Hogwarts' territory, he focused on Hermione Granger's magical aura, locating it in the middle of multiple others in the Headmaster's office. The ground around Voldemort quaked due to his anger. How had the Mudblood managed to get into Hogwarts?

oOoOoOo

Hermione suddenly felt a strange interference all around her magic, and she took a few seconds to understand what was happening.

"Fuck," she swore. "I'm a complete idiot! I had completely forgotten!"

She wanted to bang her head against the wall due to her sheer stupidity, and to travel back a few hours to kick the Hermione who had decided that erasing her memory was a good idea. And staying up all night.

"Hermione?" Ron asked worriedly.

"I'm pretty sure he has just traced my magical aura, he probably knows now that we are in the Headmaster's office," she panicked.

Her aura was going to lead him straight to them. She needed to go away from the rebels… unless…

"Wait a minute," she said, stopping Harry and Ron who were starting to make a fuss around her.

She concentrated for a few moments, twirling her wand around her, setting up Morgana le Fay's charms. And as soon as her aura had the same polarity as the Dark Lord's one, she casted several spells to hide it.

"That should work. He should not know exactly where I am. But we have to move from here anyway. Quickly."

"To where?" Kingsley asked.

All turned to Harry, who winced slightly, and Hermione wondered since when the young man had become the unofficial leader of the Order of the Phoenix.

"Maybe I could show you what Rowena's diadem looks like Harry?" Luna offered eerily. "There's a replica in Ravenclaw's common room."

"That would be great!" Harry agreed quickly.

Hermione looked at him suspiciously, firmly convinced that he had accepted Luna's offer only because he himself had no other plan. But already Harry had grabbed Luna's arm and dragged her down the stairs. Hermione and Ron ran after them, soon followed by Neville and Padma.

"We have to activate Hogwarts' wards," they heard McGonagall say. "If he enters the castle it will be a disaster."

Then the doors of the Headmaster's office closed behind them, shutting off the voices of the other rebels.

oOoOoOo

As Lord Voldemort was marching across the park, his feeling that something was wrong tremendously intensified. It was a sunny Sunday afternoon. In September. Everywhere he should have met unbearable teenagers fleeing in front of him, at least from afar. But no, the park was completely empty.

"Come closer to me," he hissed in Parseltongue.

"Yes, my master," Nagini answered, sliding closer to him.

How was it possible for the Mudblood to be here? He had lost her aura just after locating it, and that did not mean anything good. He could not explain how she could be able to cover her tracks. And above that, her presence in the headmaster's office could only mean one thing. Severus Snape was helping her.

The sky darkened sharply, reflecting his mood. Severus Snape and his perfect Occlumency wards. Was it possible that he had always been a spy? But what could the rebels have offered him? Severus Snape had been a bitter young man, attracted by knowledge, by power, and wishing to prove that he was no lesser man than the pure-bloods he had frequented in Slytherin. A persona that had been so easy to convince…

And Lord Voldemort had offered him a position far better than anything Severus Snape could have dreamed of. Why then? Why join the rebels? Or perhaps he was just helping the Mudblood for a reason he cannot comprehend? But he had felt multiple auras around Hermione's one, not only one.

His thoughts were spinning furiously in his head, and when he arrived at the entrance to the castle itself, his vision became blurred by his rage. Hogwarts' front doors were closed. They had dared to close the doors of his old school before him. To close the doors of his first home before him! The nearest trees suddenly caught fire.

oOoOoOo

Harry dragged Luna to the bottom of the spiralling staircase, before finally realizing that he was still holding her arm and letting go of her hastily.

"Pardon me Luna," he apologized.

"We should head this way for Ravenclaw's tower," the girl said simply.

She started to walk, and they all followed her. Hermione had to stay focussed to keep up with the pace of the others, and her extreme fatigue was not even the reason. For the first time in her life, she was in Hogwarts. The school she would have attended if the Dark Lord had not been the Magical Alliance sole ruler. The school where she would have learned magic. At each turn, a new door, a new sculpture, a new detail, made her want to stop to analyse everything.

The paintings murmured in their wake, some asking in an outraged tone what was happening, others encouraging them, and others disappearing suddenly from their frame. To warn who or what, Hermione did not know, but she hoped it was not Death Eaters already in the castle.

But her hopes were obviously in vain, because if they did not meet anyone for the first minutes, they suddenly found themselves facing Fenrir Greyback at the corner of a corridor.

"Hmm hum, what an appetizing surprise," Greyback said, revealing his unusually long teeth.

Harry pushed Luna behind him as the werewolf pulled out his wand.

"What a monster like him is doing in Hogwarts?" Neville murmured.

His voice was disgusted and Hermione could only agree. Keeping a bloodthirsty werewolf in a school full of children was totally irresponsible. Why had Severus Snape done that? Or was it the Dark lord who had ordered this stupidity? Surely to start teaching the children that they should fear his power, she thought with a touch of contempt.

Taking them completely by surprise, Greyback did not cast any spell, but rather physically threw himself on them. Harry casted a spell that missed the werewolf and Greyback crashed into Padma, knocking her down. Before Hermione had the time to react, Neville lunged at him, throwing him away from the girl.

Greyback retaliated by sticking his teeth into Neville's arm, making him scream in pain. Ron immediately sent a Stupefy, but it did nothing to the werewolf. Luna's Expulso had no effect either. Then, to Hermione utmost horror, Greyback went for Neville's throat.

"Segmente!" she casted instinctively.

She could not really say why this specific spell had come to her mind, maybe a reminder of what the man had done to her several months ago, but all she was thinking about was to protect Neville from this beast. The next moment, a dozen silver knives plunged into Fenrir Greyback's body. The werewolf staggered back, looking incomprehensively at the knife in the middle of his chest, before collapsing to the ground in a last groan of agony.

"Oh my god," Hermione said.

The hand holding her wand began to shake convulsively as she struggled to breathe, her gaze frozen on the now lifeless body of Fenrir Greyback. She had killed a man. She had killed a man. She had killed...

"Hermione!"

Harry grabbed her arm, and she turned her gaze to him. She was suddenly feeling exhausted, after her sleepless night, the Dark Lord's Cruciatus curses, the Fiendfyre she had nearly lost control over, and the deep anguish she had felt when she had thought that Neville was going to be ripen apart by Fenrir Greyback.

"We must move, come!"

Harry tugged on her arm, dragging her down the halls, and Hermione mechanically followed him for a few steps before recovering. He was right. She could not afford to give up yet.

oOoOoOo

Voldemort called his Death Eaters with such fury that most of them collapsed in pain. But if he could feel their condition through the dark mark, Voldemort did not care in the slightest. Even though he might still have his diary, the cup and Nagini, if the rebels dared to destroy Ravenclaw's diadem, he would make them pay. Extensively. He was going to show all those who were on his way that he had had more than enough of their absurd rebellion.

Raising his wand, he threw several diagnostic spells on Hogwarts' doors. The charms around them were basic, but so phenomenally powerful that he was not sure he could outmatch them, even with the Elder Wand. But he noticed at least three subtle ways of bending the doors to his will.

Finally, his Death Eaters began to arrive, gathering around him with sickening fear. Some of them were missing. Rabastan, Barty, and Fenrir should normally already be in the castle, and he hoped for them that they had succeeded in neutralizing at least some of the rebels. Some of his Death Eaters, however, were too far away, and they were far too hopelessly incompetent to be able to Apparate to Scotland in one go, delaying their arrival. Pathetic.

He dearly hoped that none of his Death Eater would disappoint him this time. He presently had absolutely no ounce of tolerance for failure. He casted a last scornful look at his followers before turning his attention back to the doors.

oOoOoOo

The rebels had left the Headmaster's office for safety reasons, moving to the one of the deputy Headmistress, which Severus Snape had kept intact despite the fact that Rabastan Lestrange had taken over the post in the recent weeks. Severus had pretended that he still needed to inspect it a few more times to make sure that Minerva had not left any traps in it. What she had of course done thoroughly. He himself had not dared to try to unveil any secrets hidden in the office, not wishing to find himself the object of transfiguration hexes well above his level.

Minerva and he had activated many of Hogwarts' wards from the office, but he had had to retreat to a corner of the room when his dark mark had begun to burn him fiercely. The Dark Lord had not called him, no. He was just making him suffer. He kept his left arm folded against him, and only his mastery of Occlumency allowed him to relegate the throbbing pain in the background.

Most of the rebels were watching the various magical images of the surrounding area spread all over the walls. Severus' gaze was fixed on the Dark Lord's silhouette, waiting in front of the doors with a deadly calmness. If Potter did not find the Horcrux, and if they could not kill Nagini, and then the Dark Lord himself, they would all die. But at least the current situation would no longer be his problem. He would have done what he could to avenge Lily and protect her stupid son.

"There!" Tonks suddenly noticed. "Death Eaters are arriving from Hogsmeade."

Once the gates of the park had been opened by the Dark Lord, it had not been possible for them to close them again, and now a stream of familiar wizards dressed in black were heading towards the Dark Lord, stopping respectfully behind him, awaiting his orders. The Dark Lord waited a few minutes, leaving his Death Eaters time to gather, and then he raised his wand.

"How long before he forces the doors?" Kingsley asked.

"About thirty minutes at best," McGonagall replied.

Anxious looks were exchanged in the room.

"We're going to need help," Arthur said. "If they enter the castle and the children have not finished what they are doing, we will not be able to hold them for long."

Severus Snape could not restrain a disdainful grimace. Minerva, Remus, Kingsley, Tonks, Arthur, Fred and George, Black and himself against the vast majority of the Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort himself? They would not even been able to hold them for ten seconds.

"But how to bring them in?" Remus asked. "We cannot have them go through the park; it would take too long."

"If Bill had been here, we could have linked the Headmaster's office's chimney to the different residences of the rebels," Minerva said.

But Bill Weasley was still between life and death in the Hamlet, with Susan Bones trying to take care of him.

"I should be able to do it," Sirius Black said. "I saw him perform the spells enough times."

A wave of hatred instantly overwhelmed Severus at Black's suggestion. He refused to work with the stupid bastard. Anyone rather than him. He still preferred to face the Dark Lord alone than to endure the great, magnificent Sirius Black. He was about to answer that it was out of the question for him to collaborate when Minerva cut him off.

"It's perfect. Severus, Sirius, I hope you know we're all counting on you."

And Severus sighed. Minerva McGonagall was no Albus Dumbledore, but just like him, she had a way of asking things that reminded Severus of his former mentor. This way that made refusal impossible.

oOoOoOo

They run into more and more students as they approached Ravenclaw's tower. Most did not look particularly alarmed at first, but their expressions changed when they noticed them. Harry and his dark rings under his eyes eating nearly all his face. Ron screaming at everyone to get out of their way. Padma and Luna, both sprayed in Fenrir Greyback's blood. Hermione, her hair scorched and her dress half burned. And finally Neville, his left arm pressed against him, and blood on all his clothes.

"What's going on?"

"It's Lovegood!"

"Are we under attack?"

"And Patil!"

"Rebels?"

"Where are the teachers?"

Distress was oozing from the younger ones. As for the students who were to be in their last years, they seemed to hesitate between continuing to escort the youngest to their common room and taking out their wands, not knowing the intentions of the rebels.

"Prefects, please escort back every student to the common rooms!" Padma ordered them in a particularly firm tone. "We are not here to hurt anyone, and you don't want anyone to still be in the middle of the way in a few minutes."

There was a moment of hesitation but the prefects finally started again to escort the youngest students to the tower. The six rebels followed them, and when they arrived at the top of the spiral staircase leading to the eagles' common room, the door was therefore already open. The room was filled with students, and the majority looked at them with amazement, and a touch of terror. Some pointed their wands at them in what they surely thought were assured gestures.

"Look Harry, it's there on the statue," Luna said as if they were completely alone.

Hermione looked in the direction she pointed at and immediately noticed the tall marble statue of Rowena Ravenclaw. The artist had actually carved on her hair a delicate-looking circlet. They all approached, making several students move aside.

" _Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure_ ," Hermione read out loud.

She could not deny that the motto would have spoken to the Dark Lord.

"That's what you're looking for?" Padma asked. "But the diadem is said to have vanished with Ravenclaw herself centuries ago."

She had insisted on the last words, her gaze wandering between Harry and Luna.

"That would have only interested the Dark Lord even more. He has a thing for getting his hands on legendary artefacts," Hermione commented with a touch of acidity.

Harry, Ron, Neville and Padma looked at her strangely, but Hermione just shrugged.

"It's also the only thing that had belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw that still exists according to most sources," she added. "Apart from her books of course. This would have given the diadem even more value in the Dark Lord's eyes."

"We have no certainty, however, that this is the right object. Neither any idea of where it could be," Neville pointed out.

"I doubt it's in a place where students can go anyway," Ron said. "Let's get out. It's better not to attract Death Eaters here."

A murmur of fear ran through the students at the thought of Death Eaters coming there.

"We're going to leave. If you stay here, you'll be safe," Padma assured them loudly.

At the same moment, the doors of the common room opened and three young students entered, escorted by what appeared to be a tiny wizard. He stopped abruptly, noticing them.

"Misters Longbottom, Potter and Weasley, Miss Lovegood and Patil," he greeted before turning to Hermione. "And Miss?"

"Granger. Hermione Granger," she said.

"Nice to meet you. If you wish to go out you need to leave now. I will lock the access to the common room behind you."

"That's what we were about to do Professor Flitwick," Luna answered softly.

"I met Minerva, they were heading to the deputy Headmistress' office," the teacher added.

They thanked him and quickly went for the exit.

"Hey Patil! Lovegood! What if we want to fight with you?" a voice suddenly asked.

Hermione turned around. A brunette girl had just stood up proudly in front of the other students. She had a prefect badge, and had to be at least in fifth year, but she looked frighteningly young. And around her, Hermione saw some people nod their head in agreement, while others looked at the girl with horror, or even hostility.

"It's out of the question!" Hermione snapped. "You have no idea what's waiting for you outside. What awaits your families if the Dark Lord comes out victorious of this battle and you have participated in it. You. All. Stay. Right. Here."

Her words hovered for a moment in the most complete silence, and the brunette girl looked at her with astonishment and fear written all over her face. Then the six rebels hastened out of the tower, leaving Professor Flitwick to deal with the outburst following their exit.

Once at the bottom of the stairs they rushed into the first room they could find and leaned more or less against the tables there. Hermione even closed her eyes for a moment, hoping vainly that it would reduce her exhaustiveness. She had already taken four doses of Pepper-Up. The daily limit was two, and she did not want to overdose too soon.

"And now? What do we do?" Neville asked.

"Whatever the Horcrux is, we need to find where it is. Or at least to approach it from not too far. You'll be able to feel it, won't you Hermione?" Ron said.

Hermione winced.

"Not really. Hogwarts' magic is powerful enough to blur the emanations. And what I did to hide my own aura from the Dark Lord also blurs my own perceptions."

"Had he never told you anything that could help us?"

It was Harry this time that was looking hopefully at her.

"We have only vaguely talked about Hogwarts," Hermione answered.

Hermione remembered asking a few questions about the school, but the only answers she had usually received were that people like her did not belong there. And in the midst of all their discussions, she now had no idea what might ultimately be important.

"Slytherin's secret chamber?" Neville offered suddenly.

"It's a legend," Ron said.

"If he can find Ravenclaw's lost diadem, he can also find the Chamber of Secrets," Harry argued.

He began pacing the room, making everyone even more nervous.

"But we have no idea where this so-called Chamber of Secrets is," Ron said with a touch of exasperation. "And I remind you that a monster is supposed to leave in it."

Hermione tried to reduce the fearful panic that crept into her, in vain. They were there, in an empty classroom, helpless, while Voldemort and his Death Eaters were probably already attacking the castle and the other rebels.

oOoOoOo

A deafening noise was heard and Hogwarts' doors opened widely. A cruel smile appeared on Lord Voldemort's lips. It had taken him only fifteen minutes to bend the wards to his will. Fifteen minutes to surpass the power allocated to the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Fifteen minutes to make the castle understand that he was undeniably the most powerful wizard here.

"Find the rebels," he ordered his Death Eaters. "And warn me if you see Harry Potter, Hermione Granger or Severus Snape. I want them alive."

He felt the surprised look of his Death Eaters but did not linger. He did not care what they thought, as long as they executed his orders correctly. He needed Potter to retrieve the cloak now that the Gaunt's ring sat on his hand. He needed Hermione because she was wearing Seth's amulet. And no one would prevent him from killing Severus Snape himself.

As soon as his Death Eaters entered Hogwarts' main hall, battling noises started to be heard. Voldemort had felt the rebels gather in the hall while working on the doors wards. More and more numerous as the time had passed. More than he would have thought. But still not enough to be a threat for him and his Death Eaters.

"Lucius, Bella, Tyler, with me."

With his closest Death Eaters and Nagini in his wake, Voldemort slipped inside the castle. Immediately, spells flew towards them and rebels placed themselves on his way. But he did not want to waste time with these trivialities. With a wide gesture he deflected all the spells, and with another wand motion he made all the idiots who were on his way disappear out of his sight. He had a diadem to recover.

oOoOoOo

"We could follow the Dark Lord, couldn't we?" Luna said in a dreamy voice. "He will want to retrieve his Horcrux in the first place."

"And what do we do once he gets it back? We kindly ask him to give it to us?' Ron replied briskly.

"We could at least look where he's heading to, right?" Neville said.

He was staring at Harry, and Ron too turned to him. Harry nodded, and then rummaged in his pockets before pulling out an old parchment. He mumbled something, patted his wand over it, and Hermione soon saw with awe a map appear on the parchment. She approached, and noticed that it was a map of the castle. With the position of each person inside it.

"Why haven't we used it earlier?" she asked.

"We knew where we were going," Harry answered.

He gave her an apologetic look, however, and she figured that he had not anticipated that they could meet Death Eaters on their way. The presence of the Dark Lord's forces inside the walls was crystal clear, and Hermione saw many labels intermingling in the hall.

"Where is he?" Padma asked with concern. "He's not with the others."

"Here!" Neville pointed out.

At the end of his finger were five labels. Tyler Greengrass. Lucius Malfoy. Bellatrix Lestrange. Nagini. And Lord Voldemort. A freezing shiver ran down Hermione' spine, and she felt her heart starting to beat faster with fear as she imagined the Dark Lord darting through the castle's halls.

"How could he force the map's magic to display his nickname?" Ron wondered.

"He doesn't force the map's magic Ron," Hermione replied in a slightly condescending tone. "The charms are placed directly on his name."

"Where are they going?" Luna asked.

"They're going upstairs," Harry said after a few seconds of observations. "And to the west wing."

Harry, Ron, Neville, Luna and Padma exchanged a long look that Hermione did not understand.

"The Room of Requirements," Neville said finally.

"Yes, I guess it can actually be used to store things if the request is formulated correctly," Harry agreed.

"We can be there before them if we move now," Padma informed, urgency laced in her voice.

There was another exchange of glances, and then Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna and Padma rushed into the corridors.

oOoOoOo

 **AN:** See you next week for the last chapter (before the epilogue)!


	31. Chapter 31

Hi everyone,

Thanks for the reviews!

Here is the last chapter (before the epilogue).

I hope you'll enjoy it.

Have a nice day,

Perhentian

oOoOoOo

 **Chapter 31 - September 1999**

 _There was another exchange of glances, and then Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna and Padma rushed into the corridors._

They quickly ran out of breath, but the urgency of the situation pushed them to move faster than what should have been possible otherwise. They did not made any stop on their way and Hermione soon felt her heart pound in her temples and her vision started blanking out. But no more than the others she uttered the slightest protest. Because arriving after the Dark Lord was not an option. And arriving at the same time was almost worse.

Several times they missed some staircases that moved in the wrong direction just before them, but Harry always reacted quickly, guiding them through the fastest path available, using all the shortcuts he knew. Fortunately the corridors were now empty, all the students being in their respective common rooms, and their progress was not slowed down.

Finally they arrived in an empty corridor of the seventh floor, and some form of relief spread among the rebels, leaving Hermione slightly puzzled by the blank walls all around them.

"Ha... rry...?" she asked, trying to catch her breath.

But Harry ignored her and addressed Neville and Ron.

"Do you have any idea of a sentence that may work?"

"I need the Dark Lord's Horcruxe?" Neville suggested.

"No, too obvious," Harry countered. "He won't have left it unprotected I suppose."

Hermione leaned towards Luna.

"What's going on?" she asked, irritation laced in her voice.

"It's the Room of Requirement," Luna replied. "It responds to a specific request made by someone who would wander here."

"I need a way to defeat the Dark Lord?" Ron offered at the same time.

Hermione pouted dubitatively. There were some limits to what an enchanted castle could do. Nervously, she turned her bracelet around her wrist, trying to find something.

"They are getting closer!" Padma said, having picked up the map from Harry's hands. "And I think they are moving even faster now."

Which was both good and bad news. It was a proof that their assumption was correct, the Horcrux was in the Room of Requirement, but their time will soon run out. Hermione and Ron raised their wands in the direction Padma was pointing at, preparing anxiously for the moment when their opponents would emerge from the hallway.

"I need the place where everything is hidden," Luna proposed.

"Luna, you're great!" Neville cheered.

Harry nodded and started pacing back and forth in front of the stone wall. A door appeared just as footsteps were heard in the distance.

"Move!" Padma whispered hastily.

They rushed through the door, closing it eagerly as angry voices echoed behind them. They saw a spell illuminate the hallway as the door finally sealed itself, but it did not stifle the loud explosion that happened behind it, making Hermione flinch.

"Wow, that's amazing," she heard Ron comment.

She turned around, leaving the door of the Room of Requirement as a buffer between them and the Dark Lord, and finally allowed herself to look where she was. She could only say that she was in awe. The room had to be the size and height of a cathedral – at least – and everywhere, everywhere, were stacked objects. Chairs and tables. Blankets. Books. Carpets. Brooms. Candles. Armours. All forming huge piles that were visibly standing only thanks to magic.

"And now?" Neville asked.

At the same moment, a huge noise echoed behind them again, and they felt the whole room shake.

"How long before he succeeds in getting in here?" Harry asked anxiously to Hermione.

"We have few minutes at best," she replied.

She especially hoped that it was not few seconds. That he would not suddenly appear right in front of them, and kill them without the rebels being able to do anything.

"How are we supposed to find the diadem in all this mess?" Padma asked in a clearly distraught voice.

"We don't even know if the Horcrux is indeed the diadem," Ron said. "It may be the skull of his first victim for all we know."

Hermione gave him a disgusted look, but she could only admit that it was indeed possible. That, or any other object they did not even consider. Again an explosion was heard, and they anxiously saw a crack appear on the door.

"We burn everything," Harry decided.

"What!?"

"And how do we get out of here afterwards?" Hermione asked. "We throw ourselves in the arms of the Dark Lord?"

Her own phrasing suddenly reminded her of how the Dark Lord had kissed her this morning. Before all this began. Before the Dark Lord had understood that the rebels were trying to destroy his Horcruxes. It seemed like it had happened an eternity before.

"Can the room provide us a second exit?" Padma asked.

Harry immediately started pacing back and forth while mumbling his requirements. He stopped after a few seconds, and pointed a finger at the back of the room. At the same moment a deafening crack was heard behind them, making the walls of the room shake violently and part of the huge piles of objects collapse.

"Ignis Daemoniorum!" Hermione immediately shouted, pouring all her power into the spell.

The Fiendfyre sprang from her wand, and the fire chimeras threw themselves at the partially destroyed door with unheard-of violence.

"Run!" Ron ordered.

They all rushed to the back of the room, throwing their own Fiendfyre. Hermione's chimeras were joined by huge salamanders, ifrits with oversized horns, and other creatures she could not identify. The heat became infernal and after a few seconds they had to use icing spells to carve their own way in the midst of the hell they had created.

oOoOoOo

When the Room of Requirement finally deigned to yield to his will and its damn door opened, Voldemort immediately recognized Hermione's voice casting the Fiendfyre curse. But the only thing he was able to see was a huge wall of flames that ran straight on him. He swiftly conjured a shield that shook under the impact, only partially absorbing the powerful fire and projecting Nagini and him slightly backwards while Tyler, Lucius and Bellatrix were miserably thrown against the wall of the corridor.

"They will come out on the other side. Find them!" he ordered his lieutenants in a furious voice.

Not paying any more attention to his Death Eaters, he rushed into the Room of Requirement, Nagini on his heels, the elder wand firmly held in his hand to protect himself from the Fiendfyre. But wherever his gaze landed there were already only ashes left.

Briskly, he undid all the charms that prevented the detection of his Horcrux in this room, and tried to attract it to him. But nothing came. He tried alternative spells, getting closer and closer to where the Horcrux had been kept. It was only when he reached the exact spot that he noticed Ravenclaw's diadem, lying in the middle of ashes. It was only slightly blackened, but it was clear that there was no piece of his soul inside it anymore. Consumed by his fury, Lord Voldemort destroyed the diadem irretrievably with the darkest curse he knew.

In a moment of lucidity, he realized that the destruction of his Horcruxes was seriously threatening his mental equilibrium, despite the elixir of life of the philosopher's stone. But his rage was already far too important for him to back down. The rebels were going to pay. He would kill all of them. And all of their acquaintances. He would rape the wives in front of their husbands. He would torture the children in front of their parents. And he would have their houses repainted in red with their own blood.

oOoOoOo

When Harry, Ron, Neville, Luna, Padma and Hermione emerged from the Room of Requirement they nearly fell to the ground. They were in a barely lit corridor and the atmosphere was particularly oppressive. Quickly, Hermione and Neville leaned over Padma. The witch's left leg had been caught in the Fiendfyre, and the smell of burnt flesh was sickening.

Hermione casted the few healing spells she knew could work against burns, but none of them seemed to have the slightest effect, and she panicked as she noticed Padma's naked flesh still burning slightly. She had no idea how Padma could repress her moans while suffering so deeply. The pain was probably excruciating. Hermione glanced at Neville, who seemed to have no better idea than her on how to help Padma.

Then she heard Harry swear aloud.

"Bellatrix Lestrange and Tyler Greengrass are coming from the left," he said.

He had taken out the map and Hermione looked at him with terror. They were not ready to fight against them, and Padma needed to see a healer very quickly.

"Get Padma back to the others," Ron said.

"Leave me there and go!" Padma told them, gritting her teeth.

Neville snatched the map from Harry's hands.

"Here, there is Molly Weasley, Ginny, Charlie and Madame Pomfrey. It's not so far, we can..."

"I'm going to escort Padma," Luna interrupted. "You, you still have to kill the snake. And the Dark Lord."

Without waiting for their answer, Luna placed her right arm under Padma's and dragged the other girl away. Neville slipped the map to Luna's other hand.

"You won't be able to protect yourselves, so avoid meeting anyone," he said.

They waited until the two girls had disappeared around the corner to rush down a staircase to the sixth floor. But Hermione stopped suddenly, before turning around and climbing back the stairs in a hurry.

"Hermione!" Ron shouted, running after her.

"They must follow us!" Hermione explained. "Luna and Padma will be dead in seconds if they chase after them."

Ron nodded, and as the two Death Eaters emerged from the hallway, they both launched a powerful Confringo, before retreating sharply down the stairs, avoiding just in time an Avada Kedavra casted by Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Run!" Ron said when they arrived near Harry and Neville.

They turned to the left but a spell pierced the wall a few meters ahead, opening a passage that was not there previously.

"No, no, turn around," Hermione said with panic.

They went back the other way, rushing into another hallway. They descended another two floors, running more or less randomly to try to leave behind Tyler Greengrass and Bellatrix Lestrange, without getting too far away from the Dark Lord and Nagini. Even if none of them had any idea how they could kill Nagini and the Dark Lord. They finally entered a secret passageway, and came out into a large room with huge windows overlooking the park.

"Oh shit," Harry cursed.

Hermione quickly looked around the room to determine what had caused Harry's reaction. By size and decoration, it must have been an old ballroom, obviously unused for years. The room had only one exit, and footsteps could already be heard coming from there.

"Let's go back," Ron said.

"Impossible," Harry said with dread. "The passageway only opens in one direction!"

They all looked at each other, aware that they were trapped. That it would surely be their last fight. Harry pulled his invisibility cloak out of his pocket.

"Someone has to go get some help," he said, handing it to Hermione.

"No, I'm staying!" Hermione answered.

She could not let her friends fight without her. And it would not be the first time she would have to deal with Bellatrix.

"You said he could not detect you, didn't you?" Harry said. "So you're the only one who can get out of here stealthily!"

But she could not let the three of them face Voldemort's inner circle Death Eaters. It was too dangerous.

"Couldn't you send a message to the other rebels through your linked trinkets, liked you've done this summer?" she asked.

"There is too much magic in Hogwarts, blurring the signals," Ron answered. "Move now Hermione or we're all going to die!"

Hermione hesitated for a split second, then pulled on the cloak and ran to the entrance of the room, while her friends were building a barricade with the statues. She had just managed to slip out of the room when Lucius Malfoy entered it and noticed the three remaining rebels.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" the Malfoy patriarch said.

Hermione saw him point his wand at his mark, and she start running again with renewed speed. Harry, Ron and Neville might be able to hold against Lucius Malfoy for a moment. But they would not be able to fight against several opponents at the same time. She descended a new flight of stairs and ran through several corridors before she realized with panic that she did not know where to look for the rebels.

She raised her wand with a quick gesture, and concentrated on a particularly happy memory. She grimaced when she realized that the first memory that had come to her mind was a lively discussion she had had a few days ago with the Dark Lord about North American magic, but she did not linger. If they won this battle, she would have plenty of time to think about it afterwards. And if not, her own thoughts would surely be the least of her worries.

"Spero Patronum! Spero Patronum! Spero Patronum! Spero Patronum! Spero Patronum!

Silver otters sprang from her wand, and she sent them for help throughout the castle. She watched them disappear quickly down the halls, checking that they were obeying her orders correctly. She was about to turn back to go help her friends when the Dark Lord came out of a corridor, Tyler Greengrass, Bellatrix Lestrange and Nagini around him.

His presence was suffocating, and she could see the air tremble around him under the furious power of his magic. He was even more furious than when he had tortured her this morning and his eyes seemed to promise a thousand painful deaths to anyone on his way. He walked right next to her and Hermione's breath got caught in her throat out of fear.

His left hand missed by a few inches the Invisibility Cloak, and she noticed that he was wearing the Gaunt's ring. He did not stop, but Nagini darted for a moment her forked tongue in her direction. Hermione hesitated to cast a spell at her, but there was no way she would be able to kill the snake quickly enough. The next moment Nagini let out a faint hiss and the Dark Lord turned abruptly towards her. Hermione thought her heart would stop as his eyes passed right over her.

But finally Nagini hissed something else and he pulled her closer to him before resuming his walk. Then all four disappeared in the direction Hermione was coming from, and she panicked. She could not let Harry, Ron, and Neville face Bellatrix, Tyler, Lucius, and Lord Voldemort! It would be a bloodshed! And her help would not really change the outcome of this battle…

Hermione turned around, and tried to go up to the fourth floor. If she could find the secret passageway they had used to get into the ballroom, she could open it from the inside, and allow her friends to escape and join the others to face all together the Dark Lord and Nagini.

oOoOoOo

Harry had his wand firmly pointed in front of him, just like Ron and Neville. He realized a moment too late what Lucius Malfoy was doing, and when he casted his spell, the Death Eater had already pressed his dark mark, calling for the Dark Lord.

With a fluid movement, Lucius Malfoy ducked his Stupefy, before sending them a volley of curses with a speed that Harry would not have thought the haughty aristocrat would have possessed. One of them touched Neville, slowed down by his painful left arm, who uttered an angry scream.

Ron and Harry responded quickly, each of them casting its own spell. Harry avoided a Diffindo who slashed a portrait behind him. Neville rescued Ron from an Avada Kedavra by moving a statue right in front of him. And Ron managed to touch Lucius Malfoy with an expulsion spell, throwing him backwards a few feet without really hurting him.

The aristocrat replied by collapsing part of the ceiling over them, and if they had not lived exactly the same situation a few hours earlier in the bowels of Gringotts, Harry and Ron would not have reacted in time. They erected a shield at the last moment, sending pieces of the broken ceiling fly all around them.

Neville took the opportunity to send a powerful spell towards their opponent, which Lucius Malfoy cancelled with a quick movement of his wand, before launching a Cruciatus curse on Ron. It impacted the redhead with full force, and Ron fell to the ground screaming at the top of his lungs.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry casted.

Lucius Malfoy avoided it, but he had to lift the spell he kept on Ron, releasing the latter from the Cruciatus curse. Hurried footsteps were heard coming from the only entry of the ballroom, and Harry dearly hoped that it was some help, not new Death Eaters.

Stuck in this room they were already struggling enough to face one of them. Neville was obviously suffering more than he wanted to admit from Greyback's bite. Ron was just getting up from his Cruciatus, his legs shaking. And he himself was not at his best, having hardly slept all night.

Fortunately the people who came out of the room were here to help them. Kingsley, Remus, Tonks, Fred, George, Daphne, and Astoria arrived just behind Lucius Malfoy. Multiple spells flew towards him, and everyone thought he would finally be taken down, when the spells bounced in a sonorous gong on an impressive shield that had just appeared all around Lucius Malfoy.

At the entrance to the room, surrounded by Bellatrix Lestrange, Tyler Greengrass and Nagini, was Lord Voldemort, radiating with power and rage.

"Look here Tyler, aren't those your dear daughters?" Bellatrix said, and then started cackling madly.

Tyler Greengrass did not answer her, and Harry noticed that the man was very carefully not looking at Daphne or Astoria. Lord Voldemort did not even seem to have heard Bellatrix. His full attention was on Harry, and Harry felt his guts freeze.

"Harry Potter," the Dark Lord began slowly. "Obviously. I'll be glad to finally put an end to your miserable existence. But before, tell me, where is your invisibility cloak?"

Harry cannot mask his surprise for an instant. His invisibility cloak? Why the hell would Voldemort want his invisibility cloak?

"No way!" he replied more by principle than anything else.

A curse was instantly fired at him and Harry narrowly avoided it, his heart beating wildly. Immediately, Kingsley and Remus threw themselves in the room to help him.

From the corner of his eye Harry saw Bellatrix Lestrange send a spell to Daphne, who was deflected by Tonks. Fred and George found themselves facing Tyler Greengrass, while Astoria, Neville and Ron duelled Lucius Malfoy.

The room was far too small for duels of such magnitude, and in addition to spells, they needed to avoid stray curses and the different objects that were projected in all directions. But the most terrifying thing for Harry was to see once again how powerful Voldemort really was.

Kingsley, Remus, and him were casting multiple spells on the Dark Lord, but they were not even able to touch him once. He heard a pained cry behind him, but was unable to turn around to see from whom it was coming. Then a new section of the ceiling collapsed and he avoided it only by luck.

A scream of rage suddenly sounded on his right, and Harry could not help but look out of the corner of his eye. It was Tyler Greengrass who had just screamed. He was staring blankly at the body of his daughter Daphne as the girl collapsed on the ground, visibly lifeless. Then Tyler Greengrass threw himself violently at Bellatrix Lestrange, creating confusion between the Death Eaters.

"Avada Kedavra," the Dark Lord casted with palpable boredom.

His spell hit Tyler Greengrass straight in the chest.

oOoOoOo

Hermione was running out of breath, speeding as much as she could in the corridors of Hogwarts, doing her best to get where she wanted in as less time as possible, despite her lack of knowledge of the place. But between the moving staircases, the paintings that pointed out the wrong direction, and her own memory that was obviously playing tricks on her since she had partially cleared her, she was particularly inefficient.

When she finally reached the secret passageway they had taken earlier, it seemed like an eternity had passed, and she plunged in, hoping with all her strength not to arrive in a room full of corpses. She violently scratched her knees and hands while stumbling on a rock, but continued running at the same pace.

And when she finally arrived just behind the exit of the secret passageway, she was able to hear absolutely terrifying battle noises. Howls of pain. Explosions. Shouts. Checking for the last time that she still had the invisibility cloak on her, she gently swivelled the wall that separated her from the room, and glanced inside.

The violence of the fights was palpable. She spotted a body on the floor, but refusing to linger there she wedged a stone between the door of the passageway and the wall to keep the passageway open and walked into the room, hiding behind a statue. And she swore. Rebels and Death Eaters had more or less intermingled with each other, and even if she warned the rebels of the opening of the passageway, they would not be able to use it easily. Fortunately her patronus had managed to bring back some help.

She quietly cast a spell on Lucius Malfoy to defend Astoria, who seemed to radiate with fury, and moved quickly to get closer to Harry, Kingsley, and Remus. For the moment, they were holding against Voldemort, but the situation was more than critical. She watched for a moment the Dark Lord. The rage that emanated from him was palpable and she found that his duel was strangely less natural, less fluid than what she had seen previously.

"Crucio," Voldemort casted towards Harry.

"Expelliarmus!" the young man countered, his spell exactly in the same axis as the one of his enemy.

But unlike the last time they clashed, Voldemort's spell went through Harry's mindlessly, and Harry slumped to the floor, screaming in pain. Hermione then noticed that the Dark Lord was not holding his usual yew wand, but another one that was totally unknown to her.

Hermione moved slightly further, trying to get a better angle to try to surprise the Dark Lord. But while she moved, she accidentally hit Nagini who was previously hiding behind a rock. The snake darted her reptilian head towards her, seeming to smell her again, despite the cloak. There was a moment were both of them stayed still, then the snake pounced on her and Hermione instinctively protected herself with an expulsion spell.

She wanted to run after the snake, knowing that it was absolutely necessary to kill her before they could defeat the Dark Lord, but by reacting too quickly to defend herself she had destabilized her dissimulation charms, and the Dark Lord's gaze had just turned on her. She read a certain surprise to find her here, then greed replaced any other emotion in his eyes.

The Dark Lord executed in a fraction of second the wand movements of an accio. Hermione tightened her grip on the invisibility cloak, prepared to protect it as best as she could, when a horrible crashing noise echoed through the room as well as a long hissing sound.

oOoOoOo

"Maaaassssssssssteeeeerr"

It was a long whistle of agony and Voldemort pivoted at once, his eyes landing immediately on Nagini. On her body that was trashing on the ground, a spear that had previously belonged to an armour going through her head. And at the other end of the spear, a redheaded teenage girl stood proudly, three other figures just behind her.

"Avada Kedavra!"

oOoOoOo

Harry saw with terror the green ray dart towards Ginny. She began to move, but not fast enough. Harry desperately sent a spell to try to push her out of the way, praying to all gods he knew that his spell would defy the laws of magic and hit her before Voldemort's one. But it was Molly Weasley who was the fastest, and Harry saw his adoptive mother violently push her only daughter out of the way, receiving in the chest the spell that was intended for her.

oOoOoOo

Hermione had turned away from Nagini even before Lord Voldemort had launched his spell, seizing the opportunity of the distraction for fear of having no further one afterwards. She pointed her wand at the Dark Lord, taking advantage of his gaze still fixed on Nagini's now lifeless body. His last Horcrux.

"Expelliarmus!" she casted, and the invisibility cloak fell behind her on the ground.

The curse hit the Dark Lord, and his new wand flew towards her. Voldemort's attention came back to her and all she could read now in his gaze was endless rage. She saw him move his arm, probably to pull out one of his other wands, and she threw herself forwards to catch the wand still flying towards her.

She did not know what was the significance of that particular wand, or why the Dark Lord was using it now. But she was going to destroy it. Break it in half just in case. Again her gaze crossed the one of Lord Voldemort, and this time she met a mixture of fear and fury that disturbed her.

Just as her fingers closed on the light wood, the Dark Lord pointed his yew wand at her. The spell she received in her chest caused such unbearable pain that she let go of both the elder wand and her own vine one. She fell on her knees, and forced herself to raise her gaze to look death in the face.

But Voldemort was no longer paying attention to her or his surroundings. He retrieved the elder wand on the ground just as two green rays hit him at the same time, coming from two opposite directions. Harry and Ginny.

A tremendous pain took over Hermione and she screamed at the same time as Voldemort as the Dark Lord's body suddenly vanished in thin air. Then everything went black.

oOoOoOo

When Hermione opened her eyes again, she was in a painfully white room, and her chest was aching horribly. Her eyes fluttered for a moment, trying to remove the fog that blurred her vision, and she tried to regain control of her limbs without much success, increasing her panic.

"Hermione!" she heard.

"Ron?" she said weakly.

She tried to focus her vision to the right, where her friend's voice seemed to be coming from.

"What's going on?" she asked in a slurred voice.

She tried again to straighten up, with more success this time, but she felt a hand push her back on the mattress firmly.

"There is no danger, don't worry."

Hermione's vision finally became less blurred, and she managed to distinguish Harry to her left.

"The Dark Lord?" she asked.

"Dead," Harry said.

She was immediately overwhelmed by numerous feelings. Disbelief. Relief. Anger. Sadness. Hate. Joy.

"All the Death Eaters fled after that," Ron added. "Hogwarts and the British Ministry of Magic are under the control of the rebels now."

Hermione straightened slightly and gave a weak smile to her two friends.

"Good news," she said softly.

"Yes," Ron agreed without much conviction.

Hermione looked at him with sadness but Ron seemed to recover quickly.

"We'll tell the healers that you're awake," he said.

Hermione watched them go out of the room and sat up a little straighter. She almost did not want them to come back. Because when Harry and Ron would come back, she would need to ask them who was dead. She had seen Molly Weasley out of the corner of her eye, and the pain of this death was already unbearable. She knew there would be others. She remembered a lifeless body in the ballroom… And how was Padma? And Bill?

She pulled her arms against her chest, and a strange cold feeling made her lower her gaze. On her left wrist, the white gold bracelet of the Dark Lord was still there. With apprehension, she put her right hand on it and tried to remove it. In vain. She grabbed her wand on the bedside table and cast a spell on it. Then another. And another. Without any result. She was still unable to remove it.

oOoOoOo

 **AN:** Only the epilogue remains now. See you next week :)


	32. Epilogue

Hi everyone,

The epilogue is here!

It is quite long, so I hope you will enjoy it.

Once again I would like to thank all the reviewers, favs, alerts: you made my day more than once, and it was always a pleasure to know that this fanfiction was appreciated.

For your information, the outlines of the epilogue were planned from the very beginning of the story… so yeah, it was always supposed to finish like that.

Have a nice day,

Perhentian

oOoOoOo

 **Epilogue - September 2004**

Still half asleep, Hermione Granger stumbled from her room to the bathroom, and she looked at herself critically in the mirror. Her hair was as always horribly unruly, her face was nothing more than a beacon of her tiredness, and the comfortable dress she had put on hastily had seen better days.

"You look awful," the mirror commented.

"Oh shut up," Hermione retorted dryly.

She knew she looked awful, no need to remind her. Firstly, she had come home way too late the day before, after going out in a Muggle pub with Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville and Luna. And secondly, she would rather have this day disappear completely. Unlike a typical Sunday when most Weasley and their closest friends would meet at the Burrow for lunch and spend the afternoon there, Sunday, September 12th, 2004 marked the five years of the Dark Lord's fall. The five years of Lord Voldemort's death. A grand ceremony was planned in Hogwarts to celebrate this, and Hermione had no desire at all to go there.

Many things had changed in five years. After the death of Lord Voldemort, the wizarding population had suddenly rioted in most countries of the Magic Alliance. Days of chaos had followed, before the situation finally stabilized, mostly in favour of the rebels. But the Death Eaters had not resigned easily however, and many more rebels and civilians had died. Among the people Hermione knew, Molly Weasley, Daphne Greengrass, Sturgis Podmore, Lee Jordan, and Professor Flitwick had died during the Battle of Hogwarts. The following skirmishes had taken away Dean Thomas, Angelina Johnson and Cho Chang.

And all the others did not come out unscathed either. Padma was still limping due to the Fiendfyre, who had almost carried her leg off. Neville had developed a taste for raw meat that was hardly natural. Sirius had lost the mobility of his left arm. And if Bill had finally recovered, he could hardly make the slightest physical effort, even five years later.

But the magnitude of the revolts that had risen had still limited the losses. Rebels had realized that everywhere networks of resistance had formed and struggled for years more or less in the shadows. Even in the UK, the fall of the Dark Lord had revealed that many ministry officials had quietly made some documents disappear to protect citizens. The rebels had discovered with astonishment that Percy Weasley had elevated this documents disappearance to the rank of art, saving many people, including his own family.

Like every time when she remembered the few days after the fall, Hermione had a disdainful thought for Voldemort. He had been so sure that he had an absolute power over his people. So convinced that reigning by terror was the best solution. With the result that, six days after his death, his entire empire had come tumbling down like a house of cards, and most of his Death Eaters had been imprisoned.

Among his closest followers, Fenrir Greyback, Tyler Greengrass, Bellatrix Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov and Evan Rosier had died. The other bearers of the dark mark were in Azkaban for the rest of their lives. The sinister prison was no longer guarded by Dementors, but the wards around it had been reinforced to reassure the population.

For the Dark Lord's followers who were not important enough to be marked, the sentences had been lighter. One of the main reason being that the new government had not wanted to rule as tyrannically as the previous one. And if Hermione understood and approved, it was still quite odd to know that Draco Malfoy was now resuming his life with Astoria Greengrass after two years spent in prison. Every time they met, she could not help but remember with discomfort the way the Dark Lord had forced her to torture him with the Cruciatus curse.

Once Voldemort's puppets had been taken down, it had been necessary to rebuild the countries. To release and heal the victims of Voldemort's reign. To establish temporary governments. To abolish the unfair laws dictated the last twelve years. Thus Hermione had spent the first year after the fall trying to bring back together the wizarding society, with the help of all the other rebels.

They had also been able to trace down all the Muggleborns that had been hidden by Albus Dumbledore. The day that Kingsley Shacklebolt took office as Britain's temporary Minister of Magic, a scroll had appeared before him, explaining Dumbledore's approach and stating that the list would only be revealed when a minister without the Dark Mark will rule. Very simple, but efficient. How Dumbledore had transferred part of his aura to Hermione, however, will remain a mystery, as no documentation about it had been found anywhere.

The integration of Muggleborns had not been easy. Between those who had been reduced to slavery, and those who were just discovering this world in the middle of their higher education, part of them had not wanted to have anything to do with magic. Hermione had spent hours talking to each one of them. To explain to them what the new magical world could bring them. Many had finally decided to give the new regime a chance. For the others, Hermione had left them her contact information, urging them to reach to her if they ever changed their minds.

The following year, when the wizarding world had regained some stability, Hermione had enrolled in Hogwarts for her seventh year to take her N.E.T.W.s, a necessary diploma for any good career in the United Kingdom. She could have studied by correspondence before taking them, but Harry, Ron and Ginny had convinced her that nothing was worth Hogwarts. And she had to admit that it had been a particularly interesting experience. The castle itself was incredibly exciting, and Hermione had spent most of her nights exploring it, Harry having loaned her the Marauder's map for the occasion.

Most of the students in her class were younger than her, but the difference was small enough that it was not too obvious. And the classes were in any case particularly disorganized that year, many Muggleborns just starting their magical studies although they were about her age.

Hogwarts had even had to hire temporary teachers to manage all the different levels. Harry had excelled as a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher for the youngest, Remus Lupin holding the position for the older students, and Hermione knew that Harry would surely have loved to continue teaching if his hero complex had not pushed him to finally become a remarkable auror.

She had been surprised when she had been sorted into Gryffindor, thinking that she would end up in Ravenclaw, and she had worn the red and gold colours with pride, even though she had spent more hours in the library than all her classmates. She had also discovered that she had little trouble attending classes, even without having completed the previous six years. Defence Against the Dark Art, Transfiguration, Charms, Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes were in fact easy subjects with everything she had learned at Slytherin Castle.

She had had to put more efforts into Potions, History of Magic, Astronomy, and Herbology that she had never really studied, even though she had sometimes discussed them with the Dark Lord or the rebels. She had also discovered the existence of Care of Magical Creatures, a branch of magic that the Dark Lord must have considered non-existent since she had never seen a single book dealing with the subject in his library.

The only thing she hated right away was Divination. A bunch of idiocy for the gullible. And yet she knew that this topic, contrary to Care of Magical Creatures, the Dark Lord had held it in high esteem. What she still found incomprehensible today. She had even dropped the subject during the course of the year, finally getting only eleven N.E.W.T.s. Ten Outstanding, and one Exceed Expectations in Astronomy about which she was trying not to think too often.

Then she went to the University. It was even more amazing than anything she had imagined. In equal parts incredibly difficult and wonderfully motivating. She had met Asma Bacaffa again. She had been introduced to other magi, as well as of course to the dean of the University Maria d'Aguilar. And she had met many students from all around the world with whom she was still in touch. Three years later, in June 2004, right after her exams, Hermione had been sworn in as a mage, the only student to have this privilege for many years.

Her only regret was her final results at the University. The highest for a little over fifty years. It had almost been the highest for much longer. But no, of course Marvolo Gaunt had had to get three more points than her. She did not even know how it was possible to get those three extra points, and even three months later, it frustrated her more than she wanted to admit.

After her oath, Hermione had left England for a few months, not really knowing what she wanted to do next, and wishing to visit most of the magical places she still did not have discovered during her studies. She had spent a few days in all the iconic wizarding places, and even in those much more remote, just coming back from time to time for Sunday's lunches at the Burrow and leaving immediately after, too worried to linger. Once again she had searched for traces, clues, proofs of her suspicions. In vain.

And for two weeks she was now back in the UK, wandering for the moment aimlessly, still hesitating between entering the magical law department, becoming an unspeakable, or spending a few more years studying magic abroad.

And of course she had been expressly asked by Kingsley to come to the ceremony in honour of Voldemort's defeat, as well as most of the other rebels. She already knew how it was going to be. Dozens and dozens of people were going to wander there, wishing to greet them, shake their hands, and exchange a word with them. Congratulate her for disarming the Dark Lord, and praise Harry and Ginny for finally killing him. And they would pretend to smile, while they would internally doubt that he was really dead.

Few were aware of her doubts. The magi she knew personally, Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, Remus Lupin, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Harry, Ron, Ginny and her. But if they had remained vigilant, they could not do anything else about it, no trace of Lord Voldemort having been noticed in the past five years. And sometimes, Hermione wondered if she did not have those doubts just because part of her would have wanted him to survive. A part of her that she usually tried to relegate as much as possible in the background, to avoid the painful feeling of emptiness that occurred every time she thought about him. About his unbearable arrogance. About his incredible knowledge. About his bewitching magic.

"Stop Hermione, stop," she slammed.

She did not want her thoughts to go in this dangerous direction. Sighing, she casted a few precise spells on her face, falsely refreshing her complexion. She then changed her dress, putting on something much fancier. Finally, she waved her hair in a messy bun.

"Much, much better," the mirror commented, smiling at her.

Hermione arranged a last lock of hair, before letting her hands fall. She felt something slide along her left wrist, and a moment later a noise echoed near the ground. By reflex she moved away sharply, pointing her wand to the source of the noise. And her eyes fell on her white gold bracelet. Which had just crashed on the floor of her bathroom.

She remained petrified, looking in disbelief at the bracelet lying on the floor. She had tried for months to remove it, without success. Neither she, nor Harry, nor any wizards had succeeded. Asma, Maria, Alexandra and she had tried everything to at least identify its properties, but whatever the Dark Lord had done, it had turned out to be above their level. And now the bracelet had just fallen down? Five years later? It sounded like a very bad omen and an icy chill ran down her back.

Shaking her head, Hermione picked up the bracelet, put it in one of the pockets of her dress and decided to go to the ceremony a little earlier than planned. If she wanted to discuss the event with Harry, it would be there anyway that she would find him. There was also a good chance that she would meet Alexandra, who was now ruling magical Russia, and Asma, who took pleasure in such ceremonies, although he did not participate in any of the battles, and had never hidden his admiration for Lord Voldemort, nor his disappointment that he may be dead.

When she arrived near the gates of Hogwarts, she was reassured to see that there was still no one. Argus Filch made her enter the castle with his usual moody temper, and she hurried to the great hall, much more anxious than she had been in the last five years.

The unbearable crowd that would undoubtedly roam the park during the afternoon was not yet present, but the castle was however full of students. They seemed to have just finished their lunch, and where currently lazily spilling in the park to enjoy the sun. Most of them stopped short when they noticed her, and then whispered excitedly as she passed.

"It's Hermione Granger!"

"Really?"

"I heard she..."

"Hermione Granger!"

"You think that..."

"Get out of my way!"

"Ouch!"

Hermione did not pay attention to the whispers, as she was used to see people looking at her as soon as she stepped outside her home. And it was even worse when Harry, Ron, Ginny and she were heading together for dinner or for some shopping. During all her wanderings, it was only in the depths of Burma, in Alexandra's house around Inle Lake, that she had met wizards who did not know her.

She walked steadily towards the castle gates, and entered Hogwarts as Headmistress McGonagall, Minister Shacklebolt, and Harry and Ginny came out of the great hall. The last three had come to the castle for lunch to finalize the last details of the ceremony, much to Harry's misfortune, who hated nothing more than his celebrity. He had been grumbling all the previous night about it, until Ginny had threatened to make him sleep on the couch for four months if he did not stop complaining right away. The threat had made Ron spill his beer, but Harry had finally stopped his grumbling.

"Hermione," Ginny greeted when she noticed her, hugging her the next moment.

Hermione gave her a forced smile, and then quickly nodded towards Harry, Kingsley and Minerva.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, perceiving her discomfort.

With a trembling hand, Hermione pulled the white gold bracelet out of her pocket, and without a word she handed it to Harry. Instantly, the faces of Harry, Ginny, Kingsley and Minerva lost their colours, and they dragged her to the Headmistress' office.

oOoOoOo

Hermione collapsed on the sofa in her living room. It was nearly two o'clock in the morning, and she had just returned home after the ceremony and hours of discussion with the former rebels.

Despite the bad omen of the broken golden bracelet, everything had gone perfectly well. Kingsley had made a decidedly forward-looking speech, Harry and Ginny had said some poignant words for the memory of those who had died five years earlier, and the wizarding population had celebrated the date with joy and hope.

Hermione had gladly discussed with people she had not yet seen since her return. Former members of the rebellion. Her classmates from Hogwarts and the University. Alexandra with all the pomp of her official status, and also Asma and Maria who had mingled with the crowd discreetly – at least for those who were not able to feel their incredible magical auras -.

"Hermione, Hermione!"

She looked up suddenly, alerted by the worried undertone in Harry's voice. She rushed to the fireplace, kneeling to be at the same level as the head of her friend who had just appeared above the ashes.

"Harry? What's going on?" she asked.

"My cloak is gone."

"What?"

"My invisibility cloak is gone, it disappeared."

Hermione stiffened with terror. Several months after the fall of the Dark Lord, she had tried to find and read the books she had seen in his secret room. She had not managed to find most of them, of course, and it had been absolutely impossible for anyone to find Slytherin Castle, as if it had simply disappeared from the surface of Earth. But finding the tales of Beedle the Bard had hardly been difficult.

And among all the stories, she had ended up finding the tale of the three brothers. A wand, a stone and a cloak. She had remembered the glimpse of fear in the Dark Lord's gaze when she had disarmed him from his new strange wand, and how he had put himself in danger to retrieve it. She had remembered the black stone set in the ring he was wearing. And his interest in Harry's cloak. She had told only Harry about it, asking him to watch over his cloak.

"Your protection spells were destroyed?" she asked.

"They were in perfect condition Hermione, as if nothing had happened," Harry said, shaking his head.

It was all the more frightening, and Hermione felt like something was squeezing her chest painfully as she asked Harry to open the chimney for her to check on her own.

oOoOoOo

It was September 19th, the day of her 25th birthday, and instead of celebrating it with her friends as originally planned, Hermione was all dressed in black in a graveyard, surrounded by Harry, Ginny, Ron and other rebels. Severus Snape had been found dead two days earlier in his potions lab, when Minerva McGonagall had come to visit him. Although Severus Snape had retired from the position of Headmaster of Hogwarts just after the fall of the Dark Lord to dedicate his time to potions, the two former colleagues had remained very close.

The death seemed accidental. Emanations of Flitterbloom and hemlock, mixed with the vapours of Phineas Bourne's fifth floral poison, in a temperature below 10 degrees Celsius. A quite unknown explosive reaction, even among potion experts. Perfectly plausible, because Severus Snape had been working on an antidote to this specific poison, aiming to publish about it next month.

The small academic world of potion masters had been shocked to learn about this death, and many had come, despite the fact that Severus Snape's character hardly lent sympathy. One of the potion masters was currently saying a few words about Snape, but Hermione was not listening. Her hand was tight on her wand, and she surveyed the crowd, trying to find evidence of her suspicions. In vain.

oOoOoOo

Her destination well in mind, Hermione Apparated to Norway. She arrived with a small pop - despite all her efforts she was still unable to Apparate silently - and she stilled in awe. While it was still warm in the UK for this autumnal equinox, the place where she was now was far enough in the north for a stretch of pristine snow to recover the ground all around her, making the firs forest look like it was truly enchanted.

A white marble path was laid out in front of her, almost invisible in the middle of the snow, leading to a translucent barrier that seemed to hide nothing of the landscape behind it. At once excited and intimidated, Hermione walked slowly towards the gate. She stopped for a split second in front of the barrier, before stepping resolutely into it.

As soon as she passed the barrier the venue appeared in front of her. She was now inside the entrance hall of a palace solely made of ice. Everything was sculpted with impressive finesse in forms defying the laws of physics, and Hermione could not help but gaze admiringly on all sides. Everything was magical, of course, and an impressive magic it was.

A tall, fair-haired man, dressed in a thick ecru robe embroidered with fur, approached her.

"Hi there, you must be Hermione," he said kindly.

A quiet force was oozing from him, and it soothed Hermione's apprehension.

"Indeed," she replied.

"Welcome to your first equinox evening Hermione, I'm Sondre Haraldsen."

Hermione remembered what Alexandra had told her. Sondre Haraldsen was a shaman mage who usually lived completely isolated, and who was able to communicate with most animals and even some plants. Both Luna and Neville would have been fascinated.

"Pleasure to meet you s… Sondre," she said politely. "As you already know, I'm Hermione Granger."

She had stumbled on his name, nearly referring to him as sir. In spite of her efforts, she was still unused to the fact that she now should discuss with the magi on a first name basis. Especially when the vast majority of them were at least thirty years older than her, even though they all seemed younger than their real age.

"All the pleasure is mine," Sondre replied with a smile.

He guided her to the reception hall, from where indistinct chatters could be heard. From where was also oozing the most impressive amount of magical power that Hermione had ever felt in one place.

It was the first thing she had checked when she had arrived, the different magical auras. She had sought out one in particular, without finding it. But she did not feel much more reassured. Because she knew that on the list of the Dark Lord's enemies, she had to be somewhere at the same level as Severus Snape, if not higher.

She had barely taken a few steps into the room that Asma noticed her and walked towards her.

"Ah Hermione, what a pleasure to finally see you here!" he said enthusiastically. "With a bit of delay, but it's never too late."

A huge smile was spread across his face, as always, and Hermione wondered for a moment if he was smiling as widely when he was implementing one of his specialties, the possession of human beings. She had refused to talk to him for three months after learning that this good-natured mage excelled in this particularly dark magic. And practiced it regularly.

"Hello Asma. Am I really late? I was pretty sure to be right on time," she answered, quickly checking that she was not the last one to arrive.

He looked at her for a moment with a surprised look.

"He hadn't told you about it then? Of course he had not told you about it…" he said to himself. "Marvolo had promised me that he would take you with him to the next equinox evening five years ago."

"Pardon me?"

Voldemort had promised Asma that he would take her to the next equinox evening? Absolutely no way. Now that she knew that the magi could not kill each other as a rule of their order – otherwise they would become the target of all the others – it was just unthinkable that Voldemort would have agreed to bring her there. This was a strong statement, something like sponsoring her to become a mage! A message so strong that it would have almost guaranteed her later acceptance in the circle.

"In exchange of what?" she asked suspiciously.

Asma burst out laughing and patted her shoulder in a paternalistic gesture that irritated her.

"Alexandra's location. He was still looking for Seth's amulet at that time. For what it was worth. His whole empire has collapsed now. What a pity."

There was a hint of sadness in Asma's voice that annoyed Hermione. Of course, she could only admit that Voldemort's magical abilities were particularly admirable, and she even had to admit that she had found him fascinating. But the regime he had put in place was cruel and unjust, and far too many people had suffered under his rule. Far too many people had died. And she resented Asma for freely assuming his regrets.

When she had started to study at the university, she had asked Asma why the magi did not intervene in the fight against Voldemort. He had replied that most of them had fought, each in their own countries, but that the magi rules prevented frontal intervention as long as Voldemort respected the Status of Secrecy, which was the historical goal of the circle of magi. She had also deduced between the lines that a good part of them, even if they did not appreciate Voldemort's rule, admired or feared the man sufficiently to avoid looking for trouble.

"I would not speak as freely if I were you Asma," a voice said behind them.

Asma and Hermione both greeted Alexandra, who was absolutely stunning in an emerald green dress.

"Are you afraid he will suddenly appear from behind a pillar Alexandra?" Asma asked mockingly.

"And why not?" the witch replied. "We all doubt that he's dead."

Hermione thought back to her broken bracelet. To Harry's missing invisibility cloak. To Severus Snape's suspicious death. To the extra wards she had casted around her apartment. To the Fidelius charm that Harry and Ginny had put on their house few days ago.

"I almost hope he'll come tonight. If he indeed managed to survive, I would really like to know how!" Asma said excitedly.

"Even if he was alive, and even if he would have decided to grace us with his despicable presence, you know perfectly well that he would not tell you anything," Alexandra replied with a touch of contempt.

"One can always dream!"

Alexandra and Hermione glare at least managed to crack Asma's smile slightly. Alexandra was one of the few magi, with Albus Dumbledore and Akinito Meiji, to have really fought against the Dark Lord. Her patience with Asma's remarks was slightly diminished due to it, even though the two were particularly close otherwise.

"You seem to be really getting along well tonight," Maria said ironically.

She had just arrived next to them, and seemed quite amused by their discussion.

"You'd better introduce Hermione to all the magi she hasn't met yet. You know very well that if Marvolo indeed is still alive, he will anyway reveal himself only if he wishes to."

The next hour, Hermione was kindly introduced to all the magi she did not know yet. In the end there was not that much remaining.

After entering the university, Asma had contacted her, taking her under his wing. She knew that he had highly recommended her to Maria and Alexandra, and Hermione had seen the three of them a lot in the recent years. Some magi were also professors at the University. Antonio Ibanez had taught her her favourite subject, spells' architecture, and she had talked a lot with him between classes. She was also more or less familiar with Dae Ho, a Korean mage who was teaching fundamental magic.

But it was the first time she met the others. Sikh Hâ, an old gnarly Indian who, according to Alexandra, was terrified of the Dark Lord for a reason no one knew. Shane Wilson, an American who seemed particularly strict. Hee Tan, a 40-year-old Chinese witch, who was the closest to Hermione in terms of age. Sekope Tupou, an Australian who was obviously angry with her for having worked against the Dark Lord. And few others.

In total there were twenty to be present. In the last five years, Voldemort, Akinito Meiji and Gellert Grindelwald had died, and only Hermione had joined the very elitist circle of magi. The conversations were particularly interesting, and all of the magi told at least one thing to Hermione that challenged her actual understanding of how magic worked. It was both frustrating and refreshing, and Hermione realized that she would be absolutely delighted to see most of the magi again to continue these discussions after the equinox.

However, unaccustomed to a magical concentration so important, she went out in the middle of the evening on one of the terraces in the hope to breath some fresh air. Despite the ice palace beneath her feet, and the snow all around, the air was not freezing, just cool, and Hermione leaned on the railing, allowing herself to relax while looking at the snow-covered trees.

"Good evening Hermione."

Hermione stilled, her whole body suddenly frozen. There was no mistaking regarding the identity of the person to whom this voice belonged. For a moment she felt as if she was not even able to breathe properly, before forcing herself to recover.

"It's not fair to hide your magic," she said in a falsely indifferent tone.

Morgana's theory or Dumbledore's shield? She had no idea what he was currently using, but it did not matter. She turned around slowly, trying to keep an expressionless face even though her whole body was preparing to fight. He was there, leaning nonchalantly against the wall, as if nothing had happened, as if five years had not passed. Her heart missed a beat when she saw that his appearance had not changed at all. Even his smirk was exactly the same.

She noticed at a glance that the doors to the ice palace were now closed behind him. They were alone on the terrace, and Hermione knew that even if the magi noticed what was going on, they would need several minutes to break his spells. And only if they thought their effort were worth it. They could be perfectly content to just watch, commentating on how Voldemort would dispose of her, until he finally killed her, and then, then they would have no other choice than to intervene.

"How is it possible?" Hermione murmured.

She could not believe that he was here, in front of her, in flesh and blood, his yew wand in his hands. She had sought him after his fall, when she had realized that she still could not remove the bracelet. She had toured the world many times in her spare time, going as far as Burma and the Amazon, without finding any trace of the Dark Lord. Even Harry had found that she was too obsessed with him, and that had been one of the reasons of her breakup with Ron.

And now he was right in front of her, looking at her sarcastically. Was he going to kill her there? In front of all the magi? And then kill them? No, even he could not oppose all the magi at the same time...

"Do you really think that Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley could have defeated me Hermione?"

His voice was oozing contempt and Hermione strengthened her grip on her vine wand that had been in her hand since the exact second she had recognized his voice.

"I strongly suspected that you had survived Marvolo," she said with a tranquillity she absolutely did not feel.

It was not the first time she used his middle name. She had already discussed about him with Asma and Maria after her mage's oath, after having obtained the right, and the obligation, to be on a first name basis with the magi. But it was the first time she was addressing him directly, and the sensation was almost exhilarating. As if she had finally freed herself from the hold he had had on her.

But to Hermione's surprise the usage of his middle name did not infuriate the Dark Lord. He even seemed more satisfied if his amused smile was any indication. He took a few steps towards her, releasing his magic, and Hermione struggle not to let out a moan when she felt the intoxicating power she now realized she had missed terribly.

His smirk intensified further due to Hermione's reaction, annoying her tremendously. She no longer was the helpless little Muggle who had fallen into the Dark Lord's clutches, for Merlin's sake. She was a mage now, and if she doubted strongly about her chances to have the upper hand in a duel against him, she would not yield in front of him. He did not scare her anymore.

"Had we forgotten one of your Horcruxes?" she asked.

The Dark Lord's face reflected for a split second his anger, before he recovered and displayed only the utmost indifference. As if the fact that they had managed to destroy all his Horcruxes was not worth more than a second of anger. As if their actions had been totally insignificant. Which was at least partially the case, Hermione admitted reluctantly. After all, Voldemort seemed quite alive right now.

"I have often wondered how Severus and you had managed to destroy my diary and the cup," Voldemort said slowly, deliberately not answering her question. "And at some point I remembered your little excursion in the corridors. The way you had hidden your own magical aura in Hogwarts. And finally our discussion about it. Morgana le Fay's theory. I must admit that I have been impressed when I realized that you had understood the simplifications implied by the opposing polarities of our magical auras. And of course Severus must have taught you some rudiments of Occlumency."

He had advanced further as he spoke, and she raised her wand in front of her. It was out of the question to let him come closer. His magic was already difficult to bear with him few meters away. He just raised a mocking eyebrow at her gesture.

"You know you are not allowed to kill me anymore, don't you?"

"Do not tempt me," Hermione said firmly.

Her hand was not shaking, but deep in her chest she felt her heart beating dangerously fast due to the tension between them. He could not kill her either. Not so obviously anyway. Had he just come here to taunt her then? To frighten her? To make her live in fear until he finds a way to kill her without having the magi uniting to avenge her death?

"How did you survive?" Hermione asked to avoid thinking about her uncertain future.

"Humour me first Hermione. How did you learn that your magical polarity was the opposite of mine?"

Hermione looked back at the last days she had spent at Slytherin Castle. There were events she would never remember after having erased her own memory, even if some of them had from time to time resurfaced, triggered by a place or a word.

" _Greatest Wizards Magical Auras'_ ," she answered finally. "You had the book displayed when Asma had visited you. I looked into it, searching for Seth's amulet, and I came across a paragraph mentioning magical auras with opposite polarities. It was worth a try."

Voldemort face was thoughtful for a moment, but soon enough his insufferable smirk was back, and Hermione distinctly felt cold sweets run down her back.

"Had we forgotten one of your Horcruxes?" she asked again.

If it was indeed the case, this whole disaster would be her responsibility, as she was the one having suggested the theory of the seven soul pieces. And if it was not the case, she wanted to know how he had managed to survive to Harry and Ginny's Avada Kedavra. To know what was still maintaining him alive.

"You still have a lot to learn Hermione, Horcruxes are far from being the only way to achieve immortality."

"But how then? This legend about the deathly hallows? But you did not get the cloak until a few days ago."

Her gaze drifted for a moment to the Dark Lord's left hand.

"And you do not even wear the stone, nor do you use the wand anymore."

"I have given the Hallows back to their original owner, Hermione, and I can assure you that they are far more valuable than my Horcruxes had ever been. I am now immune from death. If right know you decided to send me an Avada Kedavra, it would have absolutely no effect."

Hermione squinted suspiciously, feeling her heart freeze. It could not be possible. If it was indeed the case, it would be a disaster. That would mean they had no chance against him. And that he was going to burn down the whole planet again and again without anyone being able to stop him.

"Even if that was true, you were not the master of the Deathly Hallows during the Battle of Hogwarts. You were still missing the cloak," she said.

And why was he freely telling her about the hallows? Why not keep the secret as he had done for the Horcruxes?

"Indeed," he replied with a smile. "And you almost stole one of them at some point, making me react far too instinctively."

She must have lowered her wand without realizing it, because he was now only a few inches away from her. She leaned deeper on the rail just behind her, trying to get away from his exhilarating magic that she had missed so much.

"So then what?" Hermione asked eagerly, focusing on the conversation rather than on their closeness. "What saved you?"

She wanted to know why they had failed. Why she was now back in front of the Dark Lord. Why she was again at the heart of his intoxicating attention.

"Seth's amulet," Voldemort revealed.

Hermione could not help her surprise to show on her face.

"Seth's amulet? But Asma and Alexandra told me it was broken. And what's the link between the amulet and cheating death?"

She had of course spoken with the two magi about this amulet, wishing to understand why Voldemort had been after it. But it had nothing to do with immortality, it was meant to borrow magic from the person wearing it if some condition linked to magical polarity were met.

"Ah, but Asma and Alexandra have never understood the true usefulness of the amulet," Voldemort said with an irritating self-satisfaction.

She suddenly had a particularly strong desire to see how much she could hurt the Dark Lord if she hit his face with her fist. At least he would lose his superior look. And he was close enough for this to work. Close enough not to have the time to avoid it. She imagined for a moment the satisfaction of seeing him flinch, but she restrained herself.

"And what does the amulet do then?" she asked, forcing herself to stay calm.

She thought for a moment that he was not going to tell her, but he just let the silence hover for a few seconds before speaking again.

"It creates a magical bridge between two wizards of opposite polarity. When the bridge is established, if any fatal curse lands on the first person, his magic will temporarily find refuge in the magic of the other, leaving only the body in a state of clinical death. And then the magic will come back to revive him. It is so fast it is not even visible to the naked eye."

"But you completely disappeared that day," Hermione pointed out.

"It takes five years for the bridge to work properly. Before, the result tends to have some unwanted side effects," he said in a slightly pinched tone.

Hermione let out an indignant cry as she understood.

"Five years? It's the link with my magic that saved your life? My magic?"

Satisfaction oozed from the Dark Lord.

"Indeed."

He leaned towards her saying that, and Hermione moved slightly to the side, putting some distance between them. She took out of her pocket the white gold bracelet she had kept near her for the last few days, as if it had had the power to trigger a catastrophe if she had not kept a close eye on it.

"Seth's amulet is inside?" she asked, examining it carefully.

"Not anymore," the Dark Lord replied.

He took the bracelet from her hand.

"The amulet is consumed by the enchantments," he explained. "At the end of the five years, nothing of it remains."

"I guess it was not the original one then."

"No, indeed. But the amulet itself is almost impossible to create. It must contain a feather of Horus in its falcon form. The one that has just been consumed in this bracelet was the last known, and if it survived so long, it is only because the wizard who had tried to create this amulet was an incompetent idiot who did not understand in the least the needed charms, and thus confused generations of wizards about the amulet real powers."

"How is it possible that you were the only one to understand the real properties?"

How was it possible that Asma and Alexandra had missed those specificities? They had studied the amulet for years. If they had knew, they would for sure have done something about it. After all, during the last five years Voldemort would have probably died if she was herself killed.

"Seth has written most of his works in Parseltongue."

He gave her back the bracelet, and Hermione carefully slipped it in her pocket, feeling quite resigned. She now knew why he had still not killed her. And she even knew why he was here. If she was the one protecting him from death, he would undoubtedly want to hide her somewhere. By reflex, she tightened her grip on her wand. What if they both died in an explosion? Would it work? Maybe she could give it a try. But there was another issue.

"If this amulet works so well, why were you so interested in the Deathly Hallows?" she asked.

He remained silent, and simply raised an eyebrow.

"There are some flaws, aren't there? Are the amulet powers usable only once? Or only to a certain extent? Or the fact that you could still die if we die together? Is that why you had not publicly reappeared before securing the Deathly Hallows? Because you knew that I will be ready to sacrifice myself to kill both of us? But the Deathly Hallows' powers must also have some loopholes… Otherwise it would be contrary to the magical equilibrium law as stated by Ptolemy…"

Voldemort was looking at her with visible amusement.

"What?" she asked irritably.

It _was_ a really interesting problem. And she needed to understand what was at work here if she wanted to be able to stop him. And she knew that she was still missing something…

"What are you doing here tonight Marvolo?" she asked. "And what have you been doing for the past five years?"

"I stayed at Slytherin Castle the first months, when my magic was too unstable. Then I travelled to reconstruct the ritual allowing to return the Deathly Hallows to Death itself. It is quite complex as you may suspect. As for my presence tonight..."

He made a vague gesture towards the still closed doors leading to the reception, and Hermione's blood froze.

"No," she whispered. "No, I will not let you kill the magi!"

Once again she firmly pointed her wand at the Dark Lord, and in a fluid movement placed herself between him and the closed doors.

"Really? You're far from being a match for me in a duel Hermione. And I am _immortal_."

"But I am too, aren't I?" Hermione understood. "If the legend is correct, then the relics identify a person per its magic. And if there is a bridge from your magic to mine, then the relics would have also made me immortal."

And that was why he was there. Not because she protected his immortality. But because she was now the only one who could in fact be a match for him. Or at least become at some point a match to him. Of course he would want to control her, to restrain her.

Voldemort looked at her with that amusement that had not left him since the beginning.

"I just want to greet the magi Hermione. After all, that's what the equinox soiree is for, isn't it?"

"I don't believe you," she replied, her wand still lifted in his direction.

"Even if I cannot die, the magi could still out power me, and potentially lock me somewhere. I will rather kill them discreetly one by one."

"By waiting for them in the darkest corner of their potion lab for example?" Hermione said aggressively.

"Severus was a traitor Hermione, and he knew I may come back and kill him one day. You should be grateful that I recovered the invisibility cloak without killing your precious friends."

And here she imagined him, entering Harry's and Ginny's home, and nonchalantly killing her friends with a simple wand movement, without even stopping in his tracks.

"I won't let you kill them."

"I am not planning to."

"No? Really?" she said sarcastically.

He did not answer and Hermione's annoyance rose.

"So what do you want then Marvolo? Why are you here tonight?"

The Dark Lord approached her, as if she was not aiming her wand strait at him, and she finally lowered it. What was the use anyway if none of them could kill the other? And he was absolutely right: her duelling abilities were still pretty far from Voldemort's.

"I want you to come with me."

Hermione exhaled loudly. She had been right. But why had he decided to approach her during the equinox, with all the magi nearby? If he wanted to abduct her, he could have done it much more discreetly.

"No," she stated firmly.

"I could show you a beautiful library on Amazonian magic in the centre of Brazil, even if everyone considers it lost. I know where the Lygoravetlat scrolls are. And I have found the Ark of Samarkand. Is that enough to interest you?"

Hermione could not deny that her curiosity was picked. Even more than picked. The Ark of Samarkand was legendary. The scrolls of the Lygoravetlat were supposed to describe a very particular approach to spells' architecture. And Amazonian magics had fascinated Hermione since the first course she had had about them at the University. And the fact that he visibly knew that very well was quite worrying.

Was it his way of trying to deceive her? By making her believe that he needed her for his research? That he offered to share his knowledge with her? She reminiscently remembered that according to the legend the Ark of Samarkand could only be activated by two wizards with opposite magical polarities. She could almost believe that was just why he needed her.

She tried to read his expression, but she knew there was absolutely no chance for her to know his real thoughts beyond his controlled composure. Still, there was one certain thing. Even though he seemed now satisfied to discover and explore new forms of magic, he would try to regain power sooner or later.

"No, not in the least," she answered. "You are not fooling me Marvolo. How long before you launch a new conquest? A few months, the time to deceive me? A few years, after everyone has really started to finally feel safe?"

"A few years, probably," Voldemort replied indifferently.

"I _will_ find a way to stop you. There is necessarily a loophole, even with both Seth's amulet and the Deathly Hallows. Even if you imprison me somewhere, even if it takes me decades, I will find a way to stop you."

She had tried to put in her voice more conviction than she had and they stood face to face a few moments before Voldemort turned away abruptly.

"I do not intend to reconquer my kingdom in a bloodbath, Hermione," he said with a touch of exasperation. "Otherwise it would already be done. I have little interest in spending all my days trying to govern a bunch of morons who cannot even calm a few revolts."

"Disappointed to see how quickly your empire has collapsed after your death?" Hermione could not help but taunt.

"Fortunately, I cannot die anymore," Voldemort replied with satisfaction. "I could even try to do a comparative study of the different ways of establishing a dictatorship."

This time it was Hermione who looked at him with exasperation. But it did not even surprise her that he could treat the fate of millions of people so carelessly.

"And assuming you haven't lied, what are you planning to do? Explore different magical ruins, gathering each time squads of aurors as soon as a wizard notices you? And what will you do then; kill all the witnesses until there are no more wizards left alive?'

"Your lack of confidence is saddening me, Hermione," he replied sarcastically. "I am perfectly able to go everywhere without being noticed. After all, I was at the beautiful ceremony in honour of my death and neither Maria, nor Alexandra, nor Asma, nor you had noticed me."

Hermione could not stop a strangled cry when she understood a posteriori that Voldemort had been at Hogwarts during the five years anniversary of his own death. Quite satisfied with her reaction, Voldemort moved closer to her again and held out his arm elegantly.

"Shall we?" he asked.

"I don't…"

"Hermione, Hermione, how do you plan to stop me if you do not even come with me?"

With a frustrated sigh, Hermione put her arm on the Dark Lord's. Her magic buzzed under the touch, and a strange feeling of contentment filled her, despite all the efforts she made to be angry with him.

With a lazy gesture, he reopened the doors of the terrace, and he guided her gallantly inside. She had to find a solution to protect the world from his return. But in the meantime…

"The Ark of Samarkand, really?" she could not help asking.

oOoOoOo

It was the end of the equinox soiree, and Marvolo and Hermione had just left. Together. Only Maria, Asma and Alexandra remained on the marble path in front of the ice palace, which was slowly disappearing into nothingness. Even Sondre had disappeared a few minutes earlier in the surrounding forest.

"You owe me a hundred Galleons, Maria," Asma said.

"It would seem so indeed," Maria replied, rummaging through the pockets of her dress.

Alexandra cast a scandalous glance at the other two magi.

"Did you bet on his presence? You knew where he was for the last five years?" she exclaimed.

"No, no, not at all," Asma said jovially. "The bet was about his reaction _if_ he reappeared. Maria had bet that..."

"I had bet there would be at least one exchange of spells," Maria interrupted. "I guess Hermione has become more mature than what I had imagined. Or perhaps Marvolo had finally learned few things about temperance…"

Alexandra sighed with annoyance. How could they be so calm when it was now certain that Marvolo was back? Especially a Marvolo as visibly satisfied as he had been tonight?

"Where are they now?" she asked.

"No idea," Asma replied. "But I'm sure we'll hear from them soon. I think they were talking about the Ark of Samarkand at some point, and if they manage to activate it without killing each other, I hope they will share their knowledge!"

"Not a chance in hell that Marvolo will share anything," Alexandra said scornfully.

"But Hermione may," Asma replied with a hint of hope in his voice.

They remained silent for a moment, before Alexandra spoke again.

"Doesn't it scare you, then, that he's trying to regain power again? We were not even able to talk to Hermione alone for the rest of the evening; he stayed with her all night."

Neither Asma nor Maria answered and Alexandra also remained silent. After all, like the others, she knew that when he would start again to conquer the wizarding world, Marvolo would surely be even harder to stop than the previous time.

"She will need a lot of selflessness to endure him day by day," she finally said with a sigh.

oOoOoOo

When the Apparition sensation stopped, Hermione immediately realized that they were at Slytherin Castle. She had lived many months surrounded by the ancestral magic that flowed inside, even if she had not been there for five years. She noticed from the corner of her eye huge sculptures of marble snakes, with emerald eyes, and realized that they must be in the entrance hall.

"A little ostentatious, isn't it?" she said to hide her nervousness.

The Dark Lord smirked at her and Hermione shook her head. There were countless problems that needed to be dealt with urgently. Warn Harry and others. Undertake extensive research about Seth's amulet and the Deathly Hallows. Find the third way Voldemort had probably used to protect his immortality, even if he had not mentioned it.

If she had followed him, it was mainly not to lose his track. So that he did not disappear again. Or at least, that was what she wanted to believe. She was feeling both anxious and eager to be alone with him, but she could not delve into this right now.

"Marvolo, I..." she began.

He did not let her finish, taking possession of her lips, preventing her from recoiling by wrapping his arms around her. But it was useless, as, as soon as their lips touched, nothing else mattered for Hermione. All she could feel and think about was the sudden surge of heat in her body. Blankness seemed to have replaced any coherent thought she could have had, and Hermione lost herself in this burning desire that had remained unfulfilled for five years. And she realized that neither the year she had spent with Ron, nor her brief romances with other students at the University had even slightly appeased this want that was now consuming her.

She tried to put her hands on the Dark Lord's back, but the next moment he slammed her against one of the walls, trapping her hands over her head, and Hermione let out a nervous laugh. Of course he would need to feel like he was the one in control. Even in this context. Breaking their kiss, he move his head back just enough to cast her a disapproving look.

She knew she had to push him away. Cast all the spells she knew at him and try to run away. Or even try her luck and challenge him to a duel right now, hoping to beat him. But here, alone with him, she just smiled mockingly at him before bending her head and filling on her own the few centimetres separating them.

Slowly, she kissed the upper lip of the Dark Lord, then his lower lip, putting all the sweetness she was capable of into it, taking advantage of his surprise to explore with pleasure his mouth. But he quickly regained control, pressing her harder against the wall, painfully accentuating the pressure on her arms, again dominating their kiss. Hermione's legs shook and she felt dizzy. She had the impression that if he had not held her, she would have already collapsed on the floor.

Then he stopped and she could not hold back a frustrated moan, making the Dark lord's face become complacent. She wanted to retort something, though she did not know what, but she had barely opened her mouth that he was kissing her neck, lasciviously wrapping his magic around her at the same time, and her protests turned into a another moan. She tilted her head slightly, offering her neck more freely, knowing that she wanted him as much as he wanted her, and that if they did not give up now it would only worsen the situation.

Voldemort's magic became even more present around her and her body began to burn with a fierce envy she had not felt for any other man. She finally knew that he was still a threat to the entire wizarding population. That he was still alive and even more powerful than before. But for the moment they were detached from the outer world, alone at Slytherin Castle, and all she felt was the intoxicating satisfaction of having him only for her.

Without stopping his kiss, he released her hands, but before she could even bring them back against her, she felt the familiar sensation of Apparition. Hermione had never been in the room they Apparated to, and she moved slightly away from him to have a look at it. It was a large room, luxuriously decorated in green tones, with a magnificent view on the surrounding park. She raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"The master bedroom, should I feel rather honoured or scared?"

But the only answer he had was a smirk, and without giving her more time to look around, he pushed her on the bed.

"Hey!" she said in a half amused, half reproachful tone, surprised to find herself suddenly lying in front of him.

She tried to get up but Voldemort was already over her, overlooking her, and her heart started beating far too fast.

"Problem, Hermione?" he asked.

Then he made a quick gesture with his hand and she felt her dress vanish, leaving her in underwear in front of him.

"Let me lead the dance Hermione, it will only be better," he added when she was going to protest again.

"Your presumption really only equals... your... ah!"

But she was not able to finish her thoughts, because he had at the same time moved one of his hands in an aerial caress along her body that was far too pleasurable.

"Exactly," the Dark Lord said with smugness.

She had to admit that he was devilishly good, playing with his magic as well as with his hands, and that she did indeed have only one desire, let him lead. She was even certain that most of the women would have pledge their loyalty to him just to have sex with him once. But she was not one of those meek women.

Instead of answering him, she moved briskly, rolling him beside her with the help of her magic, and she found herself on him, a victorious smile on her lips. He raised a haughty eyebrow, before very visibly detailing her body, making her blush furiously. As if even below her, he was the one controlling everything.

She was a bookworm, not one of those young girls who twined the boys around their fingers as easily as the locks of their hair. She knew she was far from being a Veela, and it was not usually on her that the boys turned when she went out with Ginny and the other girls. But she was not going to be embarrassed by the Dark Lord. Not by him.

Hermione lifted her right hand, and using the same spell as he had before, she slowly removed his robe, detailing his perfect torso in the same way he had detailed her, even managing to pretend to be disinterested. This time, it was the Dark Lord who let out a slightly mocking laugh.

"What, aren't I good enough?" she asked with false indignation.

He put one of his hands on her back and the other in her hair, and drew her to him. He kissed her passionately again and she realized that the contact of their bare skin against each other was absolutely electrifying. She did not notice that he was moving before she found herself again immobilized under him. He stared at her. This time, there was no more trace of fun in his gaze but only desire, and Hermione suddenly felt way too hot.

He gently caressed her belly and her hips and Hermione moaned softly at his touch. She felt her bra disappear and she brought her hands to cover her breasts in a gesture she knew to be ridiculous. The Dark Lord grabbed her wrists and pushed her arms aside resolutely, exposing her chest to his eyes.

He just stared at her for a few seconds, revelling in her flushed cheeks, before starting to caress her chest. Hermione felt like she was losing her mind. She did not know if it was his magic, or simply the man himself, but the sensations she felt carried her away. She moaned again and unconsciously arched her back.

She wanted to touch him again, to run her hands through his hair, to bring him closer so she could kiss him, but she was not able to move her arms. She smirked at the realization that he had placed a binding spell on her hands, not in the least surprised by the Dark Lord's desire to control everything – again.

Then she was lost in the feeling of his hands on her body. She closed her eyes, focussing more and more on his less and less innocent caresses. When for the first time his hands passed between her legs she arched her back abruptly, letting out a moan that was almost a cry, and she hardly realized that she was now completely naked.

She opened her eyes again, and his gaze rested on her with smugness. He continued his touching, and Hermione had to fight to gather her thoughts, but she was able to concentrate long enough to manipulate her magic, making it caress his body as he was caressing hers, and finally landing an aerial caress on his intimacy. He managed to banish any surprise from his face, but she felt his body stiffen and she looked at him with the same smugness he had previously shown, while starting again with a deliberate slowness.

The swirling magic that overwhelmed her in return made her switch off everything except this marvellous feeling, and her thoughts were totally disordered for a few seconds before she regained her composure. She already wanted him far too badly, and by observing his naked body she could see that his desire matched hers.

He spread her legs gently, and not to let him completely dominate the situation, she invited him with a malicious look, keeping her eyes riveted in his until he was just against her.

"I hope that Lord Voldemort lives up to his reputation," she said.

"Are you still doubting it?" he answered with a smirk.

She shivered and he kissed her slightly, almost tenderly, before slowly pushing between her tights. She had never felt so good. The tension of these last days, of this last evening had gone away, taking with it her reticence, creating an ephemeral bubble of a pleasure which was only better due to its limited existence.

He then began to move and Hermione stirred slightly to increase contact between them. She felt his skin against hers. His magic against hers. And she almost could feel the bridge between their two magics, the bond that kept them both immortal, that kept both of them apart from everyone else.

When he increased the pace, she was no longer able to think coherently. There was no longer anything apart the sensations that he made her feel, his legs between hers, his magic electrifying hers as he accelerated his pace. Somewhere in the middle of this, she managed to free her hands with the brute force of her will. She raised her arms and pulled him closer to her. He yielded at her request, and when she felt his body pressed firmly against hers, she closed her eyes to focus only on what she felt.

They moved perfectly in rhythm, feeling what the other felt through their magics, knowing instinctively how to increase their mutual pleasure. When the orgasm reached them at the same time, Hermione did not know anymore where she was or who she was. She just knew that she had never experienced this, and that of all the times she had made love, it had never been so perfect.

They remained entwined for a moment, Hermione half stuck under the Dark Lord's body, before he moved and laid down next to her. Her mind still confused, Hermione kept a moment her eyes closed to enjoy a little longer of these sensations.

Then she sat up with a sigh, wanting to leave before he threw her out. Immediately, the Dark Lord's arms wrapped around her, bringing her sharply against him.

"Stay here," he ordered in a tone that did not admit any refusal.

Hermione laughed slightly, and she immediately felt far warmer inside.

"It doesn't matter, you know. I won't cease to try to stop you," she said seriously.

"I'll be disappointed if you do."

The balance between them was particularly unstable.

He needed to have her with him. To keep her in plain view, to activate the Ark of Samarkand, and perhaps because somehow, she was the only one whose presence he tolerated.

And she needed to have him with her. To prevent him from regaining power, to profit from his endless knowledge, and perhaps because somehow she had never felt as alive as since he had returned.

oOoOoOo

AN: The end :)

I hope you enjoyed this epilogue and that it answered all your questions.

Feel free to add my profile in your alerts if you are interested in any other stories I may post (I have few on my mind, all around LV and HG).

And if you want to leave a review for this story, this is your last chance :)

I wish you all a nice day,

Regards,

Perhentian


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